The Lords of Fire
by Servant of Fire
Summary: A parody of Sir Conan-Doyle's "Red-Headed League" and Steven Moffat's "The Angels Take Manhattan"(the rights to these characters/plot similarities belong to these two men) In which Sherlock's involvement with Melody Malone's case , re-writes the story, and changes the book's ending...Rated T for thematic elements, and disturbing images.
1. Chapter 1 Pompeii Takes the Angels

**The Lord's of Fire~**

**Written for the Lady of the Fandoms: Because she loves "the Raggedy Man".**

**Chapter One: Pompeii Takes the Angels **

**(aka Beginning from the End)**

_You know, I never liked endings... And I suppose that's why I chose to tell this "ending" first, so it wouldn't have to be the end. So ,that they wouldn't really be gone, and that the whole terrible War hadn't happened, and the Angels never really existed, so that they never really wanted revenge, so that they never really took Manhattan,so that Sherlock wouldn't have had to stop that from happening too.. But, unfortunately, there are some parts of time, that even I, the Doctor, cannot change._

_As I sit here in the same part of the park where I used to read to Amy,(who happens to be sitting here now too, crying beside me) ,whilst Rory went off on coffee breaks that ended quite badly for him,(but now he's sitting here with us with the coffee that Amy has cried into, and he decides he doesn't really want it now...) I am reading this Beginning at The End aloud. Because I have to. Because Sherlock's Note is on the last page...As I read...I remember it as clear as if it was yesterday. My stomach clenches like maybe it will happen tommorow. My pulses race like it is today. My imagination lets me dream that it never happened in any time, and that they are still alive and well today, and running about on the streets of London,and solving mysteries, and then wearily, beating each other on the back and laughing like fools at what they've just done, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are, maybe even right now, turning for home at 221 B Baker Street..._

_But my hearts, both of them broken, know deep in themselves that, no matter where I roam, I will never be able to change what happened , and so I begin from the Ending...and then it won't be the end, and I hear my own voice say to me..._

**I once knew a man, who's name was Sherlock Holmes. He was a good man. Well, actually...he was a great one.**

_I close my eyes, and let the whole moment sink in..._

~~~~"SHERLOCK!" John is shouting, from the debris of the battle.

Amy runs to Rory and the couple is so caught up in their embrace, they do not see the approach of John's last hour, his darkest moment, the striking of the bell that sounds his Death Watch.

There stands Sherlock Holmes, on the Tower of Saint Bartholomew, the bastille the Angels built back before they were Weeping Angels...

Back when they were the Lords of Fire.

Sherlock is standing, hesitant,like a eagle that has never learned to fly. About to make that leap of faith, to reverse time and space and Reichenbach Falls, the water from which they sprang(I'm sure you are confused, good readers. Well, we are beginning at the ending ,of course, a lot of this will not make sense, for a while yet).

Below him is the Well of Souls. Dante's Well. Dante, the Captain of the Angels, with his long ,firey red hair, stands in cold- white armor at the lip of the Well, and has started a chant amongst his soldiers, waiting for the drop. For the Fall.

A thousand winged archers stand on Bartholomew's Walls, with bows of steel trained to John Watson's head and heart. How did he come to be here? How did the world go so suddenly dark? My hearts wonder all of this; I beg it not to happen. I wish that book had never been read. I wish that case had never been accepted. I wish that Amy could have known. It isn't her fault,(she only wanted to save Rory) , but it doesn't matter now.

There stands Jim Moriarty. Our Judas. He who sold Sherlock to Dante for 30 pieces of silver, and a hand shake from the man himself. He who bargained with Dante, that if Sherlock should Fall, Dante's men would not shoot. But Jim had a plan ,of course.

He always wanted to burn the heart out of Sherlock...And, at that moment, Sherlock understood.

He knew what he was doing. He betrayed them from the beginning, was on their side, just to trick them. That's what hurt us the most, and at the same time, was the most wonderful. He had been solicited by the angels. He was on their side, he said. He lied too, it turns out. They were just magic tricks, after all. But they were wonderful. His last act ,just wizard!,just enough to trap them in their own plans. To bring their Mirror crashing on them, before they even knew what was going on. Yes...he was just that clever.

And so, just as he said,don't think for one second he was one of them. He had helped them at the first, and at the end, he brought them to their end, before they even began.

For when they threatened John Watson, the only light in his dark and poisoned world, he chose this...

And I heard him, even from that far away,as into the receiver of John's mobile he whispered,

"Goodbye, John..."

And I watched him fall from the Pinnacle of Bartholomew, I watched as a cry went up from Dante's host, but Dante never saw his inferno coming...

For I saw as Sherlock's heart began to burn like a far away star in his chest, cold and white,and falling out of heaven, into the darkness of the Well. I watched as the North Star of John's bleak sky,and Lost Ocean-World, fell into the Chasm of Dante, and all went very dark, and one could hear Moriarty laughing over the fire of the smoldering field...

"Too easy,too easy, a fairy tale ending..."

I never liked endings...

A thunder rolled, and fire began to bubble up like a volcano. Moriarty cackled, "Ooooh , I love it...! Now you see that you all fell for it; Sherlock just decided to be the gentleman and jump! Now, ladies and gentlemen! Lights out!" the Consulting Criminal cried,and blew his own brains out.

I heard my own voice whisper then, as I watched Sherlock disappear into the well, "He did it! He was great...Didn't give up...Brilliant..."

And fire began to billow up from Eternity...

John stepped forward, and my heart lurched...

"Wait...John...He..wanted you to make it out of here...To..."

"To what? I can't live...Death was what brought us here, don't you remember ,Doctor? No, of course not, you said yourself, you can't look back..."

" Yes, I said that. Except once, the last time I was dieing. I looked back on all of you. Every single one...and I was so proud..."

The Ponds are frozen. They know what comes next. And though I am trying my best to stall it, I too know what comes...That I can't stop it...

"John...If you just turn away right now...Follow us into the TARDIS, you could escape this... It's what he wanted for you ,John. To be safe, where they will never be able to play games again. Where you will never be in danger again...Safe...Just get back in the TARDIS. I promised him,before he went, I promised him I would look after you...I promise you I will do my best to keep his Work,his legacy alive...Then the world will be just as proud as me, of the one-and-only consulting detective, that saw through the lies,and stopped the Red- Headed Leauge, the Lords of Fire, from burning London, and the universe, down...

The soldier smiles grimly, and I know that he's not about to take orders from me,not ever. Sherlock was the only one he would take orders from. Sherlock was the one he had chosen to be in command, had followed him to death in a dark pool house, and to hell...and now...into the Dark...

"Sorry...but...I can't leave him. I don't care what he thought, he could be incredibly thick sometimes, despite his amazing intellect..." John chews at his lip now,forced to talk about him in the past tense.

"No...I'm sorry,Doctor. But you see..There's something I forgot to tell him..."

Silence,that nuclear silence, right before the tsunami of flame breaks over us, prevades. The Angels eyes are wide with fear, not knowing what is happening, not knowing how greatly they've been fooled.

"He told me once...that he wasn't a hero, you know?..."John's voice breaks the silence, as he shuffles yet another step forward...

"And there were times I thought he wasn't even human..."

I swallow, my hearts are beating out of my chest, "_Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease get back in the TARDIS..." _I am thinking, barely hearing what I know I will hear next. Because I don't want to.

"But...it looks like he was the most human human that I ever knew...after all..."John laughs..."The best , the wisest..."

_"Please John...please...he didn't want this..."_

"He was the absolute wisest person I knew, but even he wasn't always right about everything...He always knew what was best for me, what would keep me safe. Except, there was always something, a tiny thing he miscalculated...Maybe being 'safe' isn't best for me...Maybe I can rely on the miraculous to do that...Maybe it's best for me to walk through fire...Maybe I just need one more miracle..."

My heart is leaping like a fish trying to climb the falls. The Reichenbach Falls to be exact ...

"John..."

"Sorry...but...I can't stop this...bad as I want him to stop it now...I can't...And neither can you, so don't try. It's ok, Doctor."

John spread his arms out,and swallowed...

Oh, I HATE endings!

"John...please...just get back in the TARDIS with us...maybe we can find that miracle with you..."

He shakes his head..."I wish you all the luck in the world. I hope you find your way out, your own miracle. But see, he was mine...He was what brought me back to life, taught me to run again..." He laughs, thinking Sherlock would scoff at his sentiment...

"I've got two legs that work right now, and I can catch up with him, wherever he has gone...I won't leave him...Never mind what he may have said...I know...I know this is right..."

The silence ends, the fire begins to shoot up from the Well. "Doctor?" Amy asks, nervous...

"Get in!"I cry, though I hesitate...

"Coming!"John calls into the wave.

But...he's not talking to me.

And he closes his eyes.

"Get in,Pond!"I shout, pushing Amy in front of me. Rory has thrown open the door, and we push inside just in time for flames to engulf the army doctor.

And that is how Pompeii turned against Dante and his army, and volcanic blast turned them into ashen stone, with lips open in lolling-tounge shrieks, cursing the one that brought fire's justice down apoun them. That is when they spread their wings of misery to the sky, and that alone shielded our eyes from the great blast, as the Gates of Bartholomew shattered like bones...And there was darkness, and sudden horrible cold, and the TARDIS took us away before we knew the _very _end.

And so we ended up back in this park, and the book of Melody Malone, re-written to be about her teaming up with Sherlock Holmes to stop the "Red Headed Leauge" is spread out before us. We are reading ,straight to the end, and I will tell you the whole story over again from the End at the Beginning now. We have now come to the final page, and Sherlock's Note, and I have to stop for just a moment. Just to breathe, as now ,I too, have started in tears.

And my own voice says to me...

**I once knew a man. His name was Sherlock Holmes. He was a good man,...actually he was a great one. And he saved our lives...This is how he did it...This...is...how...**


	2. Chapter 2 Died and Gone to New York City

**Chapter Two: Died and Gone to New York City~**

Neither of them knew there was another bomb in the pool house.

Nor did they know that Jim Moriarty was only a diversion all along. To higher powers. To darker forces.

But as Sherlock dies, he sees Dante standing in the vapor of his own blood, leaving his veins for another world.

Into his mind, the phantom speaks.

"_Welcome to the Inferno, Mr. Holmes..." _

Wings as dark as storm clouds spread. Dante is wearing a plaid robe, that flows about him, and leather sandals, and a cloak of a black bear's fur, and looks like a king of the ancient Celts, face even painted blue. His hair is a bright red. Bright like fire..

Well,actually, his hair _is_ fire, shooting in fine hair-thin flames out of his scalp,and flowing together, in the same wavy, fabric like mesh that hair does. His eyes also are an evil green color, a bright green like neon lights. His teeth shine like moonlight,but not the purity of a winter's night, more like the yellowed ,eery glow of Hallow's Eve.

"_What do you want?"_

_"You to join the League..."_

Behind him looms other shadows of his like, and these are robed in goat's-hair, and they have great broad-swords.

"_Only one problem..."_

_"Oh?"_

_"I don't have your trademark red-fire hair..."_

_"Very good, Sherlock! Very good, we can use you!"_

Sherlock knows that to figure these beings out, he will have to play their game a while...

_"You just might..."_

He descends to darkness...and a murmur...of?

A subway, at night time. Thumping music. Cigarette smoke.

"Watch it ,jerk!"

"Hey-I'm walking here, a' right?"

American accents...

Sherlock sits up in the darkness...His body feels thin about him. Beside him, John groans...

"Are you alright?!" he asks, voice as anxious as when he asked before.

John is very pale. Glowing from the inside. Almost transparent.

Sherlock swallows, his nerves on fire, crawling like tiny serpents through his skin, as if his veins were tunnels, far too tiny for these massive trains about them to rattle through,though they were trying ,as valiantly as camels would to pass through needle's eyes...

"John...are you alright?"

John sits up, grabs Sherlock by both shoulders..."Oh God...you are so pale!"he gasps, eyes rolling about in his head...

Sherlock is silent. John blinks rapidly.

"Who was that?"

Sherlock doesn't have to ask who he means.

"The guy our Moriarty was working for..."

"But he's the boss ,right?"

"As the expression goes,there's always a bigger fish..."

"And where are we now?"

"New York City."

"NEW YORK_WHA-?!"

"Stay calm,John. They must have drugged us, sent us here...why I don't know..."

John helps them to their feet. And turns around, hand over his mouth. Angrily, he spins on his heel."Sherlock?! WE'RE IN NEW YORK CITY!"

"Yes, John, I noticed this..."

"THAT MEANS WE WERE DRUGGED AND SHIPPED ACROSS THE BLOODY ATLANTIC LIKE SO MUCH PICKLED HERRING!"

"John, I am well aware of this...But I believe the situation calls for us to remain calm, and figure out the motive behind our recent re-location-"

"Don't tell me to be calm, you git!" John snaps, storming off.

Sherlock rolls his eyes,and follows him through the subway terminal...

"REALLY,John? There has to be some explanation for this...And, if we could get to the bottom of it, we could bust them up in whatever they're doing. Who knows? The Americans may take pity on us and send us home!" he jokes..."They always like a good excuse to spend money..."

But John has stopped ,cold in his tracks, by a newspaper stand...

"John...Look I know you're relatively...uhhh...disturbed...and that this is,...a bit not good. But believe me it-"

"Sherlock..."John whispers, face having gone , wonder of wonders, ten shades whiter. He points to a copy of "The Daily News".

**RANDOM BOMBING OF A POOL HOUSE IN LONDON. AMATEUR DETECTIVE, COLLEAUGE, AND AN UNIDENTIFIED CAUCASIAN MALE FOUND DEAD THIS MORNING 3 HUNDRED HOURS ,LOCAL TIME~**

"SHhshshhherrlock...does that mean... that we?!"

"THEY CALLED ME AN AMATEUR!"

Sherlock's jaw is gaping at the paper. John gives him a look that could raise him from his recently occupied grave.

"Whaaaaat?" he draws jabbing his hands into his pockets.

"SHERLOCK HOLMES YOU ABSOLUTE HOPELESS ,MANGY, DELIRIOUS GIT! THIS NEWSPAPER HAS CONFIRMED US DEAD!"

"Ah,that's just what the crminals want everyone to think..."

Just then, a girl behind them lets out a squeal. She is watching a tv mounted on the wall, revealing a newscast.

"Recent development on the story of the London Pool House Bombing this morning reveals images of the casualities...Warning, what you are about to see may disturb you!"

"EeEEEEEEeEeEeUGHH!" John gasps, and covers his eyes, Sherlock reels and throws up behind a trash bin...

"Ohhhh"he moans, kneeling beside the can, wondering at how his vomit smokes and disappates almost immediately.."Ohhh John, blood doesn't flatter you at all..."

"Shut up, Mr. The-Criminals-Want-Us-To-Believe-Our-Eyes...If this is a trick, it is fairly convincing! Explain your mutilated and burned corpse,genius! And then explain to me William-Wallace-on-Wings and the Backstreet Boys a few minutes ago?! and why the bloody devil we've died and gone to New York City!"

"Uhhhh..."

"Oh, you're on the clock ,Sherlock! GO! Before somebody else gets blown to kingdom come!"

"EXACTLY!"

"What?!"

"That's the point of it, exactly! They bombed us in London, one of the world's largest cities. Now we're in a subway terminal, in New York City, another of the world's largest cities. We are sent here by Divine Providence ,after death, to intercept more terrorist attacks, by this group of Red Heads, the Red-Headed Leauge...(tried to get me to join them...) who Moriarty was working for. When we are done here, the Divine will send us wherever else they have planned terrorism. It's our last case revisited on a supernatural level...Why are you smiling, you imbecile? You look like a fool."

John rubbed his nose..."You really are that good?"

"It's amazing how you can go from being practically ready to kill me ,if the devil hadn't beat you to it, to my biggest admirer in 2.15 seconds..."

"My ability to shift gears so fast, so far as you are concerned, is the ONLY reason the devil beat me to it." John teases, taking a playful swipe at Sherlock's chin. He catches his fist before it collides. Their palms meet heavily, and John realizes that he does not realize his own strength, and is glad for Sherlock that he's swift

"Sherlock..."John asks, as they fall in-stride together , passing silent and mysterious, as wolves on the fold, through the subway station..

"Mmm?" Sherlock grunts, yawing wide, teeth pointing out, and tounge lolling like a hyena, and shaking his curls, like a lion does its impossible mane, wiping at his eyes like an otter would it's nose. John is silenced a moment, by how wierd his companion can be ,without even trying.

"Does it...at all..bother you that we're...uhh...dead?"

Sherlock looks at him. "Should it?"

"Well...YEAH."

"Uh...does it bother you ?if I say? NO?"

"Little bit..."

"Sorry."

They continue walking, and John sends several glances at Sherlock,studying him as if he were under a microscope.

"Is there a reason my face is suddenly so fascinating to you, John?"

John blushes when he thinks "cheekbones,jealous much" but swallows, and gasps, and coughs,and swings his arms again.

"I was,...thinking,..."

Sherlock shoots him a look that could be captioned, "Told you! Thinking is _my_ job."

"About what?" he asks, disinterested.

"How are we going to bust up the bad guys ,and get the Americans to spend a little money, and ship us home?"

"Say, John, dieing has made me dreadfully hungry! Ever tried bistro?"

John gasps exasperation, knowing why Sherlock is dodging the question. Knowing it's because he doesn't know, and he hates it, it makes his skin crawl. And itch. He's digging at his hair, like a dog does his fleas.

"Sherlock?!" John asks, suddenly sounding like a whiny four-year-old boy, much to Sherlock's amusement. He smirks...

"Yeeeees,John?" he playfully mocks in a "mothery" tone.

John scowls.."How are we supposed to order food...being dead?"

Sherlock stops short, and John folds his arms. "Oh..." Sherlock moans.

"Yeeeeees, Sherlock?" (Johns turn to mock)

Sherlock fiercely grips John's arm...

"Problem...we have a serious problem..."

"You think?!" The two of them go bickering down through the station, un-aware that River Song is watching them.


	3. Chapter 3 Sherlock Takes Manhattan

**Chapter 3: Sherlock Takes Manhattan**

"Stop! Just stop, Sherlock! There is no way, for the love of God, England, or all the peace-loving people of the universe, that I_!" John is in the middle of protesting, and Sherlock is arguing the point of how eating garbage "cannot biologically affect us" seeing as" we are no longer alive to be adversely affected by food -bourne diseases" and that" in the same note ,the box of cigarettes I found, cannot possibly hurt me" and not to mention that "by the way, John, this rubbish is rather attractive rubbish , I think I even see fried-chicken in there, with the cigarettes someone misplaced".

River slides up behind them ,casually, and clears her throat,

"I DON'T CARE IF WE ARE DEAD, I'M NOT EATING ANY BLOODY RUBBISH ,YOU _MANGY GIT!"_

"Hello, excuse me, which one of you love- birds is Sherlock Holmes?"

John has just collared Sherlock and pulled him down to his eye level, which said eyes, are bulging in his face, like an insomniac cat. He is quickly turned on River.

"Oi!"he cries, letting go of Sherlock(who immediately pops his collar into it's appropriate up-turned status once more) "Look, lady!" John jabs a finger at her.

"I am." Sherlock says, indicating himself with a half -curled finger, "But we are so NOT-"

River flashes a cheeky smile, "Oh, now, I think you protest a little too much!" she winks, quoting Shakespear, subtly.

"Woman! Now ,listen..." John is staggering like a drunk, finger wobbling, as he attempts for the upteenth time to make it _clear_ that he and Sherlock are NOT a couple.

Sherlock presses a hand to John's chest, sweeping him behind him, "Oi, shut up, and go sit down before you hurt yourself! Shoo, away with you! What did you want to speak to me about, mam?"

River laughs, as John peevishly bats Sherlock's hand away. Of course, she already knew they weren't a couple. They behave too much like brothers; for a moment she herself wondered if maybe they were brothers, of the adopted sort ,as they look nothing at all alike.

"But aren't you the one what just said, ''ey John youandmecaneattherubbishan'itwonthurtafing!ACCHCH!" John's nerves are now so irritated, that he is slurring his speak with a terribly affected cockney, which what is worse, is he isn't doing it on purpose.

"OH WILL YOU SHUT UP,FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Sherlock cried, half-smothering John ,if it were still possible,by spreading long fingers over his face. John growls, and swings blind punches, and Sherlock shushes him like a peeved older brother(though, for sake of argument, he is younger) would his annoying toddler brother ,in an attempt to address his client. River bites her lip to smother laughter. She knows if anyone can help her, the world's only consulting detective can. Never mind how un-professional he looks right now, as his sides are pummled by John's blind fists..."I apologize,madam. He's had a bit of a err...not good... day...I mean well, you've read the papers..."

"Which is actually why I need to speak with you,Mr. Holmes." she says, getting straight to business, holding up a copy of another newspaper, labeled, "Chronicles", or something Sherlock has never seen before.

He lets go of John, who throws his arms around his neck ,in an attempt to choke him, only to be distracted by the paper. A brow curls, and then he leans against Sherlock's shoulder(darting "I will kill you later" glances at him every now and then) to read. River chuckles. Brothers ,indeed...

Sherlock reads aloud in a muttering voice, " To the RedHeaded League According to the will of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon,Pennsylvania, USA, The RedHeaded League was formed. Now there is room for one more member of the League with a salary of 4 pounds a week, in return for simple services. Requesting a ginger female of over 21 years. Apply in person only..."

"What on earth..does this mean?" John's brows twisted together ,in an impossible shape, and he tilted his head to more-so resting on Sherlock's shoulder,totally unaware that he had done this, eyes now crossing together. Sherlock scoffed, laughing so hard he wheezed(which made it clear to River the man used to smoke, and she was wondering if bribing him with cigarettes would get him to take her ridiculous case...)

"What?" John gasped, exasperated, looking up from where his head rested, eyes still floating like a sucker-punched Chinese goldfish, and still so confused by events. Sherlock chuckled..."4 pounds, John?! Odd ,isn't it? First of all, nobody says "pounds" anymore. Euros! And 4 pounds a week? This is an advertisement in an American newspaper. Not even an American idiot would want to work for 4 pounds a week, which would be the equivalent of ,what, 8 US dollars? I can't remember,but you see the point. This ad is utterly absurd...How'd it even get in the paper?"

"That's the whole point of it ,Mr. Holmes," interjected River..."This same advertisement appeared in this same newspaper, when it was known as the _Morning Chronicle _on April 27,1890. The men that you met, the Red-Headed League ,are really just the ancient faces of creatures known as the Weeping Angels. And I believe they are after a younger incarnation of my mother, Amelia Pond, (who is currently in this city, at the park, infact, reading with my husband, the Doctor). If you had had one of your usual days, Mr. Holmes, even YOU might think me a nutter. But seeing as this has been the day that you died, sweetie, you're gonna have to put some of what seems to be rationale behind you, as a whole new world is lying at your feet..."

Sherlock stood,blinking, rather stupeified. "You are the wife of the notorious Time-Traveler known only as "the Doctor",and Amelia Pond is your mother?"

"You know them?"

"Yeah...they'r e on the telly. They were...on the telly..." John pipes up,from his perch on Sherlock's shoulder, like an eager parrot, almost. River finds the blonde soldier to be rather charming,and immediately she knows she can trust them both.

Sherlock swallows.

"If it were any other circumstance, I would assume this was just an effect of my bored and dieing mind, trying to furnish me with one last case,before I go in the bag, the good Doctor Watson beside me. But, given that the girl three rows of benches down from us, just dropped half of her ice cream cone, because she was paying too much attention to the hand signals of one thug in a green blazer, and given that that flock of starlings has been hovering over the dropped hot dog disinterested now for 10 minutes, too nervous because of the weed-smoker ,pacing as a distraction, between them, I can clearly read that the man in the long tweed coat, with the not so-sturdy umbrella, is waiting for the young gentleman ,coming down the corner to the coffee stand on our left, that we are about to be required to intercept a kidnapping. Of your father, River,I can clearly read he is your father ,because..of reasons...Nevermind, they're closing in!" Sherlock shoves the newspaper back on River, and John stumbles as the sturdy shoulder he was leaning on ,is so swift and suddenly moved out from under him.

"Ah, and he really is THAT good!" he gasps to River, as he runs after Sherlock.

Who bumps into the fully red-headed man in the tweed coat, with the not- so- sturdy umbrella, who is approaching the coffee stand. John stops dead in his tracks. Sherlock is talking with a New Yorker's distinct accent. Flawlessly.

"Hey!" the man gasps, snapping the umbrella at Sherlock.

"Sorry, man." Sherlock gasps. "Canna ask ya for a light? Been beggin for a light aww freaking night. And my buddy Jonny here, he aint gots no cig light. The dude's a tee-totaller, an' smoke free, idn't dat right, Jonny?!"

John comes shuffling up, suprised into shy silence, by his friend's transformation. Yes, Sherlock is THAT good. River smiles ,impressed. And then, Sherlock's introducing them.

"My buddy, Jonny. And his wife, Christine. Bloody Brits, I tell ya. I's takin' em for some heroes. They've never had heroes, can ya believe it, man? Never had hawt dawgs either. "

John swallows. River's mouth gapes, but he is too stunned to protest. Even Sherlock's facial expressions are completely transformed.

"Look, kid, if I light your smoke, will you buzz off?!" (the guy is royally ticked)

"Awwww...c'mon," Sherlock staggers."Don't be such a buzz kill, man! Neva heard a smawll tawlk?"

"I'm terribly sorry ,mate. He's, putting it mildly, totally wasted..." John pretends to be pulling Sherlock away.

"Oy vey!" he wails, shoving him roughly, "Not before I get my smoke lit, Jonny, hand awff. And seriously?! Only had a cuppalla beers. Get ova yaselves..."

"Mickey..." John huffs, impatiently, "You're about to get "smoked" if you take my meaning. "

"That's totally right, atleast the Limey gets it..." the Yankee scowls, cracking his knuckles. John gulps. Wonders if Sherlock can still feel the pain he's about to experience.

River has slipped away, and managed to grab Rory by the arm, and divert him from the waiting "Weeping Angel" appearing as a little red- headed kid in a baseball cap, and standing by the coffee stand, looking very harmless.

"Oh, a'h ya tryin ta embarass me infront ah mah friends,?! Not cool, man,not cool. Get ready, cuz Mickey's ganna take Manhattan. Or Brooklyn ,or wherever the heck we ah in the Big Apple, so toasted I dunno!" (hiccup added for emphasis, as Sherlock pathetically starts to swirl his wrist, watching all the while, until River and Rory are out of sight)

"Oh no, you aren't wasted right now...You will be in about 30 seconds ,though. Hey ,boys?!"

Suddenly Sherlock transforms again. Into himself. Eyes on fire, as he takes the man's throat in his cold grasp.

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, and I WILL take Manhattan first..." he whispers,into the man's face, using his real voice this time, only actually distored horrifically, in a way only a phantom can pull off. He nods, lips gaping, and breathing smoke in his nostrils, for dramatic emphasis. John's not sure where the smoke came from, as no cigarette was ever actually lit, but he thinks it makes sense... since they died in an explosion.

"Oh, and by the way," John grins, twisting the man's nose as he whines,pathetically.

"I don't like being referred to as "limey"." he gasps, and punches the guy across the station. He whizzes over the coffee stand, and lands in another newspaper kiosk.

"So, keep an eye on the papers, because you will read about it. And for the sake of stereotype, mate, 'Tally Ho!..." Sherlock gasps, as they set off after River and Rory at a brisk pace.

"Hawt dawgs.."John mocks.

"Shut up..."Sherlock replies, with a soft snorting laugh.

The Angel sits up from the newspapers...and looks at the kid. "Lord Dante...Is that the one you warned me about?"

The child smiles the evil smile of the Lords of Fire, and transforms into his Ancient Celtic general true-shape.

"The one and only Sherlock Holmes...He's changed everything...He'll bring us glory. So, don't kill him...Yet..."


	4. Chapter 4 The Rest Has Been Re-Written

**Chapter 4:The Rest Has Been Rewritten**

"Ach!"

"Why are you ripping pages out of the book?"

_Amelia Pond turns with a flip of fire-red hair at my demolition. I rather sort of like this word"demolition" I think I'll use it more often in this story-ach what? Oh, yes that's right, now I'm getting off track again, aren't I? Where was I? Ah, yes...I was a few pages from the end, when I started to rip them out. As I have said earlier,I don't like endings... "_

"I don't like endings , you know. So, if I pull the ending out it doesn't have to be the end,right?"

"No matter how long a story is, there has to be an end."

"You don't have to be such a pessimist."

"No, I call things what they are. And life is hell sometimes, and in the end we're all memories ,and all stories HAVE to come to an end."

"Which is why I don't like endings ,so I rip them out, and..."

_By about this time we are fighting over the book, she and I, when it falls open in front of us, and suddenly there is an illustration of a man we have never met,but feel as though we have known for over a hundred thousand years. He is a very thin man with hair the color of midnight, and is very pale, with eyes that, even in a painting, pierce like swords into both my hearts. Now ,at first, he is dressed in a long black coat, and there's a blue scarf blowing around in the wind about him, and something about him makes me think he may be a detective. But then, the picture changes to a grey and aury blur of mixed- up paints, and pencil lead. And the next time we can see the painting, he is dressed in armor , unlike any armor I've ever seen. It's all plates of steel, and stones as black as the other side of Evening, and looks actually rather Japanese, and his helmet is made of iron, and in his hand, as he faces away from us is one of those long swift Japanese swords. Also, he wraps himself in wings like an angel's wings, but they have feathers made literally of tiny, thin flames of red,white,green, and blue fire, woven into the same meshy fluff that feathers are. He looks as though he is lost forever, (I don't know there's a look people get in their eyes when they are...).He is looking back at some one. Some one both my hearts goes out too, knowing he(somehow I know it is a "he") will suffer great pain for whatever is going to happen. At the bottom of the page is painted in the Japanese language:_

**ICARUS FALLS**

"Doctor! You BROKE the book!"

Amelia shoots me a look. Suddenly,although I have never met the funny-detective-turned-knight-in-dark-armor, I know his name, and say it, as if he were a long, lost friend.

Oh, if only I knew...

"Sherlock?"

"Apparently,you called?"

There he stands, behind me in the park. Behind him is my wife, River, and Rory, looking flustered, and then a small ,blonde man steps out behind him, and my hearts both freeze, and I know him, know his name, and know that he is the one the Sherlock in the painting was looking at, with such concern. I wonder what on earth is about to happen...I'd rather like to avoid this.

"John?" I ask. He stops in his tracks.

"You know me?"

"Well, not really...I know your name...is John."

"Doctor, what the DEVIL'S going on?"Rory asks, blinking behind his reader's, peevishly. He has walked past the others, and is leaning over Amy ,who is stairing still ,in shock, at the changing of the pages. The story has accelerated to Melody Malone meeting Sherlock Holmes, and they start to solve the case of some Red-Headed murder league, that somehow pulls them into a parallel world, that...

Amy shakes her head,"Why are you in my book?"she asks Sherlock pointedly.

His brows curl, "Didn't know that I was?"

"Well, you certainly weren't before."

"Ok, so yeah, what is going on, Sherlock?" John asks, arms folding over his chest, still looking as flustered, if not more so now, than before.

Sherlock swallows.."Obviously there is a serious crime being planned, that we are, as usual , going to have to stop. This time it looks like it transcends the space/time sphere so as they can plan it in the past, (as we observed by the out-of-date news column) and then bring it to pass in a futuristic dimension. Is this some After- Death punsihment Moriarty cooked up?Is starting to look like it,"Abruptly, Sherlock spins on his heel,to facing John, "Do wish you'd brought your Browning with you..."

"Yeah? Well, I rather wish we hadn't DIED AND GONE TO NEW YORK CITY!"

The two of them are bickering again, teeth gnashing, whatever they are saying almost indistinguishable, and their fingers are flying about like fencing blades, all wibbly wobbly and swishy wishy( I should really be more specific, sorry readers...)

"WELL MAYBE IF YOU HAD DIED WITH YOUR BROWNING?!"

"WELL MAYBE IF WE HAD AVOIDED DIEING ALL TOGETHER WE WOULDN'T BE IN THIS MESS!"

"IT ISN'T ACTUALLY MY FAULT THERE WAS ANOTHER BOMB IN THE BLASTED..."

"WHOA!"Rory interrupts the fight. "Wait...let me see if I get this straight...You two...are...what?"

The two of them stop for breath,and look at each other, and then look away at our astonished faces, and then they start cracking up.

Amy casually slides closer to me, and whispers..." Who are these nutters and why are they in my book?"

"Well to answer your first question, "Sherlock straightens up, and pops his collar again, and Amy looks somewhat embarassed that he heard her,

"I am Sherlock Holmes ,the World's- Only- Consulting- Detective..."

"How do you know?"I ask.

"Know what?"

"That you're the ONLY one?"

"Oh, easy. I invented the job."

"Ah."

"And I am Captain John Watson, M.D." obviously, says John, and he sort of nods at us, as if saluting. And Sherlock blinks wildly, and huffs,

"Or atleast, we WERE, until about 12 hours ago..."

"What happened to change that?" Amy asks.

"Have you been watching the news, or reading the papers at all, along with your other books?" John asks, looking incredulous.

We must look absolutely horrified then, judging by how they wince.

"The London Bombing?" River asks, covering her mouth,in a shaky hand.

"Yup"replies Sherlock, adding extra emphasis on that last "p" sound.

"So, WHAT IS GOING ON?!" Rory asks, annoyed now.

"Well, as far as the book changing. I am actually Melody Malone, if that helps at all.."River pipes up, swallowing her horror, "And I asked Mr. Holmes here to take our case, because..."

"The add requested a final member for their League she believes matches your description."Sherlock says, indicating Amy.

"Alright, so I get all of that. But what's this Icarus bit?" Amy shows Sherlock the very strange morphing paintng of himself...

"Well that's an odd look on you..."John gasps, leaning over him to look. Sherlock squints," Well, that's just it...it isn't me..."

"What?" everyone asks, looking at him oddly. Sherlock tilts his head...

"I don't know, honestly. Which I hate not knowing. Or ,at least, I don't know YET. The leader of this Red-Headed Leauge,(who,if you are wondering, was apparently the Boss of the crime boss I was investigating when we...err...died...but anyway) as I was dieing he spoke to me. Said they could use me. See the wings, and dark armor, is a variation of their red hair, and their own dark armor. This probably has something to do with that. I'm not sure, exactly how to ...convey.. this...but...I believe this image to be some sort of "doppleganger" if you will. First of all, the message at the bottom says "ICARUS FALLS" which is apparently another name for me, or myself ,as appears in this painting. But, see, the eyes are the wrong color. Mine are blue and green, but not hazel, as I have what is called heterochromia. These are actually yellow, as though they blended my two colors together to make them one. And ,also, this image has faint, wine-colored markings under the eyes...see."

All of this had escaped our attention. I can honestly say, I had known him for all of 5 minutes, and I was already impressed with the world's only consulting detective. My thoughts are interrupted by John's strained voice.

"So if it isn't you, then WHO is it?!"he asks, sounding near panic. "Why does he exist, and what does this Red-Headed League want with you and.. Amelia,is it?"

She nods, though I don't remember introducing her.

"As I said earlier, I don't know." he turns to John, expression suddenly softer than I'd have thought his sharp-featured face could make. "But, like I also said earlier, we need to remain calm. We still have yet to figure out why we were re-located to New York City, when we died, although we can safely say it is probably to prevent another large city bombing,such as the one that took our lives..."he suddenly lays both his hands on both of John's shoulders, "Which, I am very truthfully sorry that happened..."

John swallows. "Not your fault..." he says , his features twisting up in regret. "How could you have known there were TWO bombs. It was completely random. Clearly Moriarty was a diversion for some brute attack like that..."

"My downfall is that I always want everything to be clever..."Sherlock admits, and I find it actually suprising that this seemingly shrewd-a-touch-above-us -all fellow would admit to a fault. I've seen stars that were closer to this galaxy than he is in relating to people. Or maybe I've judged him too quickly. I have only known him for going on 10 minutes,at this time in the story. Although , as you will see, it really was much longer than that, because of the wibbly-wobbliness and timey-wimey -ness of time.

"Well, let me say it again, then. Not your fault..."John lays his hands on his shoulders in turn, and they smile at each other, knowingly, before turning back to us.

"I'll take your case."Sherlock says to me.

"Well,actually, it's my case."River pipes,sassily.

"Oh,no, actually its The Doctor's case..."Sherlock quips, and I begin to wonder if maybe my River has finally met her match? Well... she won't be bested so easily...,

"Oh, says who? I'm the one who "consulted" you or whatever it is you call it?"

"Oh, but I'm the one who is being "consulted", or whatever it is you want to call it, and the one who makes the calls and the cases, and I have decided it is the Doctor's case, and the reason being is very clear. You, his wife, and thus, your family, Mum and Dad in their younger incarnations, are all these Gingers need for a bargaining chip. Wouldn't you say so ,John?"

"Sounds like Moriarty, yeah. After all, he used me to get to you..."

Sherlock closes his eyes. "So, yes, we have a very serious case on our hands. Feels like murder. Looks like somebody wants you to come down to our level ,Doctor."

"Your level?" I ask, rather stupidly,if I'm to be honest. Sherlock has a way of making even the brightest men feel like complete morons. Worst part is, he doesn't even mean to.

"It's a nice way of putting they want you to come down to join the Dead Men, Doctor." John adds, smiling bashfully. "Because regardless of how lively we appear..."

"We can assure you, we are as dead as dead can be. There will be no Halloween-fuss-where you solicit us for zombie-grams. I don't do that sort of thing, despite the acting skills I've already displayed. There will be no risk of our waking up in a body bag away in London, so as to leave you high and dry. It's even completely free of charge, as there is no way ,as far as I can see, that you can pay me, although the Work is it's own reward, in my opinion..."

"Zombie-grams?"I ask, rather confused.

"Didn't you hear me?" he asks,looking rather puzzled.

"Well, he did but you're not making any bloody sense?!"John replies,looking at him like he landed from Pluto(though I really don't see why as Humans are so fussy about that sort of thing)

Sherlock's turn to stiff-up, and look some what puzzled. "I'm just stating the Terms and Conditions of Employment. I don't want them trying to rope us into any fussy Halloween celerbations or other such non-sense. I don't wish to be exploited or discriminated against for being ,infact, a Phantom." He looks at me rather seriously, and I crack up,Lord forgive me. Now he is really confused.

Amy shakes her head."You uhmm,...you won't...Really you won't. We promise..."

"Yes, all we care about is your ability to solve the case, not your Dead or Alive status." River puts in, smiling rather devilishly.

Sherlock nods, satisfied. John's eyes cross, painfully, and he closes them and rubs at them. "Why?would that? have been and issue?"

"Oh, John...people are funny about me being...myself...anyway. I don't want this" being dead" thing to further complicate my obvious problems with errrr people."

John just stairs at him,as if he's grown a few heads. Then he sighs. "Well, now that we've established that it's perfectly alright you and I are dead as door-nails, lets us...carry on?"

I divert their attention to a certain "Dooo weee dooo" chiming sound I'm sure we are all familiar with at this point.

"Right, why don't we go inside for a uhmm...proper...what is it you call this?" I ask, clapping my hands together, eagerly.

"Consultation?"John asks.

"Right, one of those."

"Oh, and don't worry ,boys. There will be no rubbish on today's menu."River throws at them, and they exchange a somewhat baffled glance that she a)heard their debate on the biological effects of eating rubbish post-mortum,and b) was able to follow said heated debate and c) is now throwing it back at them in an attempt at friendly banter with the likes of them, which they(especially Sherlock) are not used to on a case.

"Good ..to ...know..."John says in a sing-song voice that indicates this has probably been the weirdest day of his entire life...or lack thereof.


	5. Chapter 5 For His Game's Sake

Chapter 5: For His Game's Sake

_John's confusion melted away pretty speedily, I might say. Has a knack for catching on very quickly, that one. Neither of the two of them had any problems accepting that the TARDIS, what appears at first to be a blue police box, but turns out to look like a "Star Trek" is it? (oh I can't keep up with all this telly, you know, the show about space?) fan's resort within, was really a time machine,that was going to take them to the parallel dimension of Amy's book._

"I can't get over how MASSIVE it is on the inside!, it looked like a call box from outside. I was thinking we were all gonna be elbows and knees into each other." John cried, beaming at my TARDIS, till I am feeling myself redden with pride ,at her beauty.

"Your friend is all elbows and knees anyway,"Amy joked, cocking her head to the side. Sherlock tossed his head in her direction, and then glared holes in the Doctor,

"If you are a doctor, then why on earth does your apparent vehicle say "police" on the front? A diversion, perhaps?"

"I asked the same thing when I was seven!" Amy laughed, and I looked at her, lips flapping with some explanation I was going to give, when the master detective startled me again ,with his sheer brilliance.

"DIVERSION!" he cried, snapping his fingers.

"Sorry, what?"John asked, turning from poking at some shiny thing that he didn't know what it was, to look at his friend, eager to figure out what he was on about, and follow him. I would have supposed they were brothers ,had they not looked so vastly diffrent, with one always going right along with the other. In the end, I suppose they were more truthfully brothers, than had they had the same parents. Oh, I hate endings. But it's funny what you can learn about people, when you remember the beginning from the end. They were so steady, and sure, and I had no doubts, even after having known them less than an hour, that they were going to have our case solved in no time.

"John, how easy! They wanted to hire Amy, yes? This Red- Headed League with the stolen article from the 19th Century... if we want to know what they are on about, we simply create a diversion where Amy does accept the job offer..."

"WAIT!" Rory held up a hand, " My wife's not doing anything that'll put her in danger. Atleast, not unless I can come along."

Sherlock's mouth was still open, trying to explain it all, "Right, well duly noted, I was getting to that part, thank you, uh?"

"Rory."

"Right, Rory...Well, as I was saying,"

"A pleasure meeting you too, Sherlock Holmes," Rory muttered, and rolled his eyes as Sherlock's baritone went on chattering, and nearly putting me to sleep, save that I needed to hear what the elegant tone was saying. Sorry, I suppose if I wasn't always paying so much attention to how lovely things are, I would get more done."

"We'll respond to the job offer as a means to draw them out. Then I will interrogate this 'Dante' myself ..." I caught him saying, just as I nodded off. And I only caught it because John practically barked,in reply:

"Not by yourself,you won't!"

"The only one that will be in any real ,immediate, possible risk will be myself, and I am dead, so what does it matter?" Sherlock's brows narrowed.

I sensed a row brewing between these two the entire 45 minutes I had known them. Or,rather, I expected they'd been at it before they got to us, and they never really got a chance to work their problems(which seemed pretty extensive ,what with being recently murdered) out.

"It MATTERS,Sherlock, because a) you are putting yourself at risk AGAIN, and b) this 'Dante' ,or whatever the blood devil said he was, threatened YOU personally, and c) since when have I ever let you have all the fun?"

"If you HAD, you might still be alive today!" Sherlock snapped, and I swear I could have heard a pin drop in the Ancient Parthenon ,all the way across Time right then, that lovely, dark voice cutting right through my bones. John's eyes got that terribly sad look I don't like on anyone, and least of all some one with such a kind face.

"Sherlock...Really...It wasn't your fault."

(We all began to feel like we were intruders on their privacy, even though this debate was happening in our living space. They had a way of being in their own little world even in mixed company, they did.)

"I should have factored in something like that , I should have known, especially with you involved!"

"You couldn't have known..." John closed the distance between them. Sherlock was plowing his fingers through his hair, like a farmer tills his vegetable patch. John grabbed his fitfull hands away, and shook his head.

" You. could. NOT . . Nobody can plan for terrorism. Nobody. It was completely without the reason you ..umm...lived by, and that is why you couldn't see it. None of us could. You can try and prevent terrorism,but some acts thereof , you just can't. Stop it now. For God's sake, stop. It wasn't ,isn't, will never be your fault..."

John was like a "tamer" and Sherlock like his wild,and anxious lion. And suddenly I felt like the TARDIS was the circus, and the world was full of fools. Everything, even our case, seemed so empty of meaning in the wake of this devastation. Two young men, who never made it out of their 30's...brutally,randomly murdered. What was the point, really? , of everything they did, of everything I do ?,if something freak like this can happen in a moment's notice,and just put an end to it all?

But ,just as his terrible death had made me question every thing in one moment, his amazing mystery-solving person gave me my answer in the same.

"He didn't threaten me, solicited my business. I say that we play his little game, eh? For the Game's own sake. And see what can come out of it."

"You said WE. So that means ,as in, US. You aren't doing this alone..." John folded his arms, stubbornly.

"You got it."Sherlock winked, and I felt both my hearts twist up. Who was this amazing, dark and mysterious young man, and how did I meet him? Suddenly, everything was in perspective again.

Yes, he died, and horribly, and he shouldn't have...

But... life you see is worth protecting, for its own sake.

"Right,it sounds like an excellent plan, Mr. Holmes, but exactly how are we going to meet with them?" River interjected.

Sherlock smiled."'Criminals always return to the scene of the crime'is actually a stereotype that is true. If they had arranged for Rory's kidnapping in the subway terminal here in New York City, and not anywhere else in the world, then it must have some significance to them. And, seeing as the add was from the 19th century, then we simply, seeing as this is a time machine, return to the day the add was first printed in _The Morning Chronicle_ originally, and return to the scene of the would-be crime. With Amy, if she will be so kind. And with Rory and John seeing as they insist. But, seeing as this is a delicate situation, one of you," he indicated myself and River," should be on stand-by, and one of you should be here with the vehicle, in case we need intervention."

"Excellent, Sherlock! I knew we could trust you!" I said,forgetting.

"Oh, be sensible, you met him 46 minutes or so ago! I! knew we could trust you."River corrected, saucily.

"Who trusts me is irrelevant. All that matters is that 'Houston, we have a plan!'"he cried, clapping his hands together, eagerly.

John beckoned him over to some of the TARDIS' best seating, "And I can actually say I've ridden in a Time Machine. This has been the weirdest day of my life!"

Sherlock just blankly looked at him, and he smiled, sheepishly, realizing his mistake. Sherlock smiled, like he only ever did at John, the kind of smile that says, "You're not an idiot like the rest of Man-Kind".

Something warmed in my blood, as I sent us back to April 27, 1890. Something that felt like who we were and what we were doing was just...RIGHT. For its own sake.


	6. Chapter 6 The End of April and Her Fools

**Chapter 6: The End of April and Her Fools**

_I honestly don't know how to tell the next part. As this was the day, April 27,1890,that the Olympus Paradox happened._

_Now, Olympus Paradox. Well, that's what we are calling it now. What happened was, Dante (who was behind the London Bombing, and Moriarty was his accomplice, if you remember) had played a trick on yes, even me._

_But to make a long story short(and then make the rest of it long, as ,well, we have to have the rest of a story to tell, anyway...) Dante had actually planted a bomb in Amy's book(the book was the bomb, yes?) And the TARDIS ,being that it had the book on it, had landed in the past, as a sort of Trojan Horse. In fact,it was intended as a Trojan Horse, and the pages of Amy's book was paper made of the wood of the ACTUAL Trojan Horse, and the ink was made from Medusa's Pen. Now, I can't make the story short without making it too long here,if I explain that bit in this subtext, so let me just say that the Weeping Angels were working to lead the Gods of Ancient Greece into the modern world, and bring about the Age of Olympus. Ok, now that all of that has been said, and you've been properly confused, let me tell you how Sherlock was wonderful, and kept that from happening._...

"You look, nauseous?" John laughed, gently punching Sherlock's shoulder.

"That would be a severe understatement. Who knew one could be nauseous after mortality?" Sherlock is white- knuckling it all the way backwards through the 20th century.

"Just 10 years left, Sherlock, no worries." I laugh.

And right then we touch down , where the Subway Kidnapping was just avoided, only in 1890, by a news-stand, and a long line of red heads,in crisp pressed suits.

Sherlock nods to me, telling me and River to lay low for a bit, and then extends an arm to Amelia, and she smiles, and takes it. Rory looks annoyed, as if nobody is allowed to be a gentleman to her but him.

I roll my eyes, and wait, watching as John brings up the rear, something on his face telling me that something is particularly...not right...about this situation.

"Good afternoon...mi'Lords of Fire." Sherlock says, and Dante turns, wearing a large top hat, and a long black leather trench coat, the massive counterpart of Sherlock's long dark coat,that is breezing about him.

Amy swallows, looking quizzically around. Dante clicks a huge golden pocket watch firmly shut.

"Good evening, Mr. Holmes. I see you've brought the woman?"

"Yes, though, I'm not sure why you wanted both of us? Infact, I mean to interrogate you, because you have not been making any sense at all. First, you blow up a pool house in London, using your little Irish Setter Hound( by this he meant Moriarty) to lure me and Dr. Watson there, right into the line of fire. And then, I wake up in New York City, and River Song tells me that you have put an add in for one more red-headed employee, that matches the description of her mother. But , you told me, before I came here, you planned to use me for your business too? And, all I can think is, why say that, why tell me I can be of use, when you only hire people who look, and have the same firey tempers," (Amy glared at him) "As yourselves?But of course, I can only assume that means you are somehow using me as a means of organizing bombings of the world's largest cities. So, that leaves me with the mystery of this woman to solve, and all I can think is, mother/mother-in-law/wife? she is obviously the pillar of the Doctor's whole family, and therefore, she is a bargaining chip for your plan, yes? Good, so I've gotten it all right, so far? Well, the Doctor is a Time Traveller, one that you crossed swords with a long time ago, maybe, or maybe in the future? I don't know that bit, so I can't make theories on it, as I have no facts. But, you do send an ad from the past into a modern newspaper. You make sure,myself, and Dr. Watson, past our expiration date, happen to be present with the Doctor and his family, right when you were carrying out, or attempting to , the kidnapping of the father- figure of this family(he glances at Rory,and continues). This tells me, that, although I don't fully understand the nature of time paradoxes, you intend to create one, here, and now, to create another one, in the future, at the same date, as the day that we woke up to . More than one possibly, given the whole ICARUS FALLS scenario, that I saw in the book. So why don't you enlighten me?Which, if any part of this, did I get wrong?"

Dante chuckles deeply, "Spot on, Holmes. I knew I could use you... Yes, I mean to create total chaos, and destroy the Doctor, whom I've hated from the beginning ,because of the End that he brought my people to, in the future, but of course. I mean to blow you bloody lot to Kingdom Come. Amelia's Book, is the Bomb. You'll want to keep it in the TARDIS,or it will tear all of New York City off the map, a hundred years before you woke up there ,after your death. I needed her business, because I needed her book. And she'll want to write books, if she's going to fix what I am breaking. You have all of 20 minutes to solve how to keep me from creating my chaos. As I said, Mr. Holmes, good evening."

Silence reigned, and the Red- Headed League disappeared ,in a flash of fire.

"DOOOOOOCTTTOOORRRR!" Amy shouted.

Sherlock's hands flew to his temples, on the clock, and I could hear his wheel's screetching against themselves...

"Ohhh,,..."John moaned, as this wasn't the first or last time, apparently, Sherlock had been thrown into solving a case to stop a bombing.

His eyes lit up, and he turned to John, in horror. And then he turned to me, panting,

"Doctor, if it were to explode in the TARDIS, only the TARDIS would explode, correct?"

"Yes, as big as it is on the inside, and the fact that she is actually alive in a way too complex to explain in 19 minutes 54 seconds..." I feel horrified, simply horrified. My TARDIS or the whole of New York City...My family..or New York City."

Sherlock looks back at John, and reaches and takes his face..."If I,having died in London, were to die in the past, in the TARDIS, with the book, that could create a diffrent paradox, yes? One that would be much more contained and easier to reverse than the Paradox he is trying to cause?"

I think about it for a moment. "If you were to die, after you've already died? Well...Yes, I think it's a chance we could take. The only thing is, my TARDIS may be destroyed irreversibly, or you may be destroyed irreversibly, where you couldn't come back, not in any sense, not even in the after life."

Sherlock swallows...never having let go of John's face. "No..." he breathes, close to his knees giving way.

"Get off the TARDIS, River, if you please ,mam. Tell me how to lock myself inside,Doctor. As far as I can see, this is the only way..."

He runs his hands through John's hair, and it seems so oddly sentimental for him, but I don't think he's even aware that he's doing it, he's focusing so hard on John's gone-bloodshot-eyes.

"You get them out of New York, and help them figure this out...If I don't make it..."

"Sherlock..."John clutches at his wrist..." We BOTH have to go in..."

"No, John, don't be stupid. Get them out!"

"YOU DON'T BE STUPID!"John is anxious now, "Don't you...see?"

Sherlock spins to me. I wonder if I was as chalk white as he was?

"If you both died, it would make sense for you to both do so again..."

"The risk is too high..For you..."

"Shut up. We agreed...did we not more than a bloody hour ago?"

"Well ,techinally we've gone back about 121 years, so...it was actually..."

"Shut up..."John is vehement now..."And get in the TARDIS. Step to...I'm right behind you..."

"No...I..."

"Sherlock. I'm not leaving, and if you keep stalling, God knows what will happen to the world..."

"John..."

"What are you always saying...You need me to trust you? Right now...I need you to trust ME,Sherlock. Trust...me..." John is out of breath.

Sherlock gasps, clearly unable to fathom the gravity of this situation, for the fact that he can clearly see how truly grave it is...

Then ,with frozen features, he turns to , and swallows.

"Get out of New York..."he says. He does not say goodbye.

Then, he closes his eyes, and marches into the TARDIS.

John turns to me. "How do I lock it?"

"I already set it up to lock itself before I got out, thinking we could let it blow with us not inside.."River admitted.

John laughed, sheepishly, "Life isn't ever that easy, is it?"

And then, the World's Only Consulting Detective, and his good Doctor Watson, were gone.

_And if you want to know what happened in the whole Olympus Paradox, Amy wrote a whole book on it, after everything was over. But, to make a long story short, and then make it long again some place else, we waited in agony for the bomb to go off..I could see it in my head, imagining Sherlock and John and what they were saying and thinking right now..._

"It...shouldn't have to end like this..."Sherlock looked at John ,apologetically.

"You know what ,mate? From the moment I met you, you gave me my life back. And that life was the best...life...I couldn't have asked for this?...this is...ok. Gotta take the good and the bad."

Sherlock smiled. "To the best of times?" he offered John a hand.

They shook on it, and then John looked ,awkwardly, at their joined hands, "Oi, why not?" he laughed, and threw his arms around Sherlock, and they both laughed, boyishly.

"Thank you...for everything." he gasped. Sherlock drew a deep breath.

"Thank you...for being here...It's...uhmm...good."

_I let a breath I was holding ,and closed my eyes, when fire tore the TARDIS to a billion little pieces. And 4 large pieces,dipped in my friends' blood, were scattered in diffrent points of time. River and I were closest to the TARDIS, and got pulled into a black hole ,left in its wake. The Ponds were left in New York City, but they were blasted 121 years or so back into the future, and woke up, on their backs, on the same day as we had been reading, in Central Park. River and I ended up jumping from black hole to black hole,via many other explosions,to re-piece the TARDIS, and especially the 4 bloody pieces. Then I had to drain the blood into the Glass of Abel, to pull Sherlock and John's souls back together, so that they would wake up in Dark Pompeii, Dante's capitol, after the Paradox, right at the dawn of the War of the Angels. If you wanna hear the story of the Olympus Paradox, then you'll have to read the other story I have written, and stowed...somewhere... But the rest of our story about Dark Pompeii and all that..is ...as follows...*ehem*_


	7. Chapter 7 Now Enter the Saints

**Chapter 6: Enter The Saints**

_After the Olympus Paradox, which Amy and I wrote about, and put in a book somewhere around here(oh that's right, she called it "The Boy Jumped Over the Moon!), River and I, and the Ponds(and that's a long story, that I'll let them tell a little later) all woke up in Dark Pompeii. Which, for definition, is the evil and twisted capitol of Dante and the other Lords of Fire, who became the Weeping Angels, because, actually, as you will see, Sherlock found a way to curse them, whilst he was trying to save John's soul from them ( I know, wibbly wobbly timey wimeyness, and all this story telling ,with the end at the Beginning ,and the End at the Middle, and the Middle at the Beginning, and somewhere all of this runs to be the shocking conclusion...alright! the bloody not bloody... Happily Ever After...oh never mind all that, what was I saying?*ehem)ANYWAY!_

I sat up, still blinking tears, and dust out of my eyes, dust from the Fall of Mount Olympus, and tears from being there to witness Anastasia's End. River gave me a look of hopelessness, as she and I, both recalled that very last moment of the Olympus paradox, with the strains of Sherlock's music, that will haunt us forever...

~_"Come closer, Doctor..."_

_"Anastasia..."_

_"No, Doctor, no more..." _

_The girl...only 17, smiled, through her blood, at me. The last piece of the 7 Shards of the TARDIS(note, intially I said 4. Well, when I had gone to find the first one, it was in the keeping of a prison guard,at a death camp in Nazi Germany. Sherlock, in an attempt to save John, whom the guard, (who turned out to actually be Dante in disguise) had threatened to kill, took the shard and ran with it ,into the gas chambers. The TARDIS shard exploded ,along with Sherlock, and thus became 3 more pieces, hence 7 shards) Anyway, as I was saying,the last shard that Sherlock had scattered across Eternity, had found its way into The Grand Dutchess Anastasia Nikolevna's jewerly. The same jewelry that shielded her from immediate death, the day she was assasinated. It was Sherlock and John's intervention that kept her from being shot in the head, which was what happened to her in historical events. History says she was finished off with bayonets too...Well, I couldn't keep her from being stabbed. Though Sherlock stopped it -once- with his hand, and now knelt in the corner gasping, wan faced._

_"__If it helps...I solved it...I solved..."__I winced, while he coughed, __"The case you asked me, you remember? To solve...what would happen...to your remains...? And I left clues so that they will identify you..."_

_"I thank you,Mr. Holmes..."__ she gasped, sadly, and River took her hand, and I felt that I would cry._

_"__It was the least that I could do...after you saved my friend..."_

_John is wincing like this were his fault, but the young princess laughs. It occurs to me, that in this twist of time, Sherlock is 17, same age as the dutchess, and John is a 20- year- old version of himself._

_"__In another life,...I may have loved your friend. Not as a brother or a neighbour, but as well, you know..."_

_John laughed, bashfully, and Anastasia beckoned to him, to come closer._

_Pulled the police- box blue heart- shaped locket, off her neck,_

_"__This piece is her heart, the TARDIS's heart, isn't it? I'm giving it to you...along with mine..."_

_"Anya.."__John gasped, using the nickname he'd given her._

_"__No,no,you don't want it to fall into White Army, or Red Army hands,do you? You said you were a solider,in another life,John? You said you were a doctor, too. No ,don't look so sad. It's ok that you can't save me. It's ok that you can't end all wars,... altough I know you want both want to...So, I want you to do something for me,John? Take the Heart, and mine...Let Doctor drain the Glass of Abel into it, yes? And end this War of the Angels, before it even begins ,John. Don't let them take it. Don 't let them release the would-be gods...from their eternal prison. Only one God,right John? And I must go to Him now..."_

_"Anya?!" John pleaded._

_"Sherlock, I know your hands are bleeding, and I'm sorry for that. But, will you play your violin for me?Will you stain it red for me?And in your music, think of me, and the music box of the TARDIS heart..."_

_Sherlock, bowed his head, "__Goodbye,Anya..."__he said in a soft voice, and acquiesced, his blood staining the violin purple, the pain in his hands and heart haunting the music, and shattering both of my hearts forever,as Anastasia ended in my arms..._

I open my eyes, as it all passes Glass of Abel, like a genie's lamp cast in glass, lies smoking on the ground, and spinning like a bottle. Amelia watches it spin,until she is dizzy. And then, out of its light, springs the TARDIS,whole again.

And John and Sherlock stumble out of it, eyes bright like the Bad Wolf's eyes, and I long for Rose Tyler, and another life, once more.

So many girls that I couldn't save...

Sherlock swallows..."I looked into the TARDIS, and the TARDIS looked into me...And I found that we can create our own destiny..."

"Yes..."John gasped.."Yes we can..."

Then they blinked, and Sherlock gasped ,incredulous.

"What ,in God's name, has happened?"

"Well, after you went into that Void, Rory and I were blasted back into modern day New York. And Lady Liberty had become a menace to society ,and had somehow rigged her torch to be a canon, that she was gonna blow Manhattan off the map with. Till Rory had a plan. And I was Andromeda..."Amy piped up, and I looked at her ,completely baffled.

"That sounds simply ghastly, what on earth does it mean?" said I. Sherlock folded his fingertips together, intrigued.

"It means I tied my wife up like Andromeda from Greek mythology, up on the Bridge, where she was locked in a stairing contest with Lady Liberty while I stalled her."

"As long as I didn't blink it worked..." Amy said, hollowly ,as Rory went on.  
"Of course, I could never put Amy in any real danger.I only needed her not to blink for just a little while,though it seemed an impossible little I acted like Persius, if you will. I only got the idea, when I found the one thing that could stop her.I read it in another one of those living books, like the one that blew everything to bits awhile back. You know the whole bit about the image of an angel is an angel?Well, I saw this book of Greek mythology, with me in it, and Persius holding the head of Medusa to look at the beast that was gonna eat Andromeda, so as Medusa's eyes could kill him, and all that rot? As long as I didn't look in its eyes, I was good. I climbed into the tour room of Lady Liberty, and fought, with a sword that fell out of the Void, I don't know, for the right time as this?With the mini statue of her Ladyship, and I cut off her head. I carried it outside, and dangled it between her she looked into her own image's eyes, she closed her own in horror, and fell into the that's how the Ponds saved New York her crash, opened a black hole that spat us out here."

"And apparently your saving Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, and restoring the TARDIS,is what brought us to wherever in blazes we are!" Amy cried, standing up.

I felt my eyes cross, and I stood up.

"Yes...it looks like we have entered the City of and twisted, by the presence of pre-historic Weeping looks as though we are soon to face off with the devil..."I said, concerned, knowning that in the end it would be he and I, bargaining for my friend's lives.

"Ohhh, my master isn't pleased...tsk tsk..."says Jim Moriarty,stepping out of the rubble of Pompeii. With a flourish of his arm, Sherlock sweeps John behind him.

"Why have you come back to haunt us,you worm?!"he gasps.

"Easy, Sherlock! Touchy, touchy are we?...I admit,Anya's demise was simply...ehhh, tragic. A very touching _coup de graise, _if I do say so myself. But Sherlock...oh, OH! you have really messed up..yeah? When he said he could use you...He meant you know,USE you, like a puppet or something; your pretty little brains were supposed to be able to be manipulated, like a puppet's strings, to bringing about the Age of the Gods...But you...you're Icarus are't you?...Always flirting a little too close to the fire,eh? Well, know this, my master sent me to deal with you. Oh, I OWE you, Sherlock...I owe you...my little Icarus, a proper fall. And I will too,you know I will.I'll burn the wings,and heart right off/out of you."

Sherlock is immediately on the defensive. "If you even breathe on him!"

"Oh, I wouldn't lay a finger -or a breath-on John Watson! Well...I wouldn't..."he smiled, wickedly, "If maybe you met me..at the Reichenbach Falls...Midnight on All Saints Day, which here in Pompeii is..tommorow night..."

"No, no, no, and no, Sherlock, this is ridiculous!"

"It's alright,John."

"No, I won't...I can't allow you to do that...We, -you're Sherlock Bloody Holmes, the World's Only Consulting Detective,..you can...you can figure it out."

What John didn't know yet, what Sherlock didn't say, but what I knew...oh I knew...in both my hearts, was that he had ALREADY figured it out...and just now had the business of biding his time.

"Call me!" Jim whispered, doing his hand in the "y-shape" that signaled"phone".

Sherlock muttered darkly to John, "I will do what I must."then he turned to me.

"Doctor, I need to speak with you in the TARDIS. Now." he glanced around, and glared at John."Alone."

"If you plan anything..."John gasped, menacingly.

"I will do... what I must." he said more emphatically, and I knew in my heart,not even John was going to be able to stop him.

As I got in the TARDIS, I heard Dante whisper in my ears,

_"Now enter the Saints. The ritual is almost ready to begin."_


	8. Chapter 8 Sleep of Angels

**Chapter 8: Sleep of Angels**

_"No!,no I won't let you..." I say, on the defensive,but already I know I am absolutely helpless in this situation._

_"Oh no,Doctor, I'm not asking for your permission. You see, I already have done the deed, before the Paradox. And now I must carry it out. So, I'm actually asking you to please..."_

_My jaw drops as Sherlock Holmes is breaking down before me, trying very hard to keep a straight face, lips trembling, eyes darting about._

_"He won't understand ,Doctor. But it's all for him, it always has been. It's ok...I've always known, I have to do this..."_

_I I know what it is to have to go against a friend's will to keep them safe. To cause them to forget...Donna flashes through the eyes of my mind, and I feel tears._

_"What do you want me to do?"_

_"Keep him in the TARDIS. While he sleeps, he will be vulnerable to them. Only you can protect him ,Doctor. And don't ...don't interfere." he chokes, and covers his mouth._

_I realize then , especially in comparison to me,how very young he is, how truly frightened he must be. Horrified by what he has to do. But what shocks me more about this amazing young fellow, is that, he is going to do it anyway;no matter how TERRIFIED he certainly is, he is going to do it straight- faced. He swallows his cracking voice, and nods._

_"Thank you,Doctor. And now...I must...go. I have a deal with the devil.I can't put it off anymore."_

_John bursts in just then..._

"SHERLOCK, YOU LISTEN, BY GOD!" John gasps, his hair electrified by his rage, eyes as wild as mad horses. To my shock, (I feel myself flinch) Sherlock reaches up ,in one move, and claps a hand over John's mouth, and the other behind his neck ,like one does when they are ready to break somebody's neck.

"Sleep." he commands.

John fights it, eyes fluttering, and flashing angrily, hands going to Sherlock's wrist. Sherlock watches him ,with wide, water-colored eyes...

"Sleep..." he whispers again.

John shrieks at him, angrily, and knees him in the stomach,not knowing what is going on. To be honest with you, readers, I don't really know what he's doing either, until its being done. I feel both my hearts thrash, and I reel,coughing, my head spinning. I see Sherlock's eyes close in extreme concentration, and then I know...

To get away, he is locking John and I in his "mind palace" as he calls the place within his extremely powerful mind, where he stores all information in organized files and what-not (for cases mostly).

"Sleep.." he says, one last time, voice barely above the threshold of sound, and we descend into a dream, as strong as intoxicated hallucinations...

_And what was Sherlock's task, that the Angels gave him? He made a bargain with them of course, they wanted him to no more meddle in their affairs, they wanted him to die. So, he arranged for our lives to be saved,by carrying out his own inglorious suicide. My blood freezes now ,in hind-sight, thinking about all he had to do._

_But the bloody genius had solved River's case, whilst he was in the Paradox. If he created the Weeping Angels, (which as you will see, indeed, he did) then of course he can destroy them. The secret to it, was by fulfilling Amy's wish (oh and she didn't know, she couldn't have known, poor girl, I wish she hadn't blamed herself) and by saving Rory who was, by rights, the one that was "in line" for Icarus' throne. I know, you are properly confused by everything that's happened, aren't you? Well, don't worry, that's the thing about stories:we're all confused, right to the end!_

I watch John fall to the floor, but something has changed. Sherlock looks both ways, pops the collar up on his coat, and disappears into a grey blur. I hear River ,and Amy and Rory struggling. I hear Amy cry out.

"WHY?"

"Amy, don't struggle, listen to me, alright? The Queen of the Angels named Rory as her succesor. The problem with the Throne of Icarus, is whoever climbs up there, has to fall. Rory was going to jump from Icarus' throne to save you, that's why he was going to get coffee..Tell her the truth, Rory; you were going to turn yourself in to the Angels, when I intercepted your kidnapping."

I see,with double vision, Amy turn in horror to Rory,who's mouth is gaping. She is teary-eyed, and then she slaps him silly.

"So, let me guess, when I said to him,right before he walked off, 'I wish you'd always be careful, without me having to tell you'..."

_I vaguely recall the conversation the Ponds had in the park, before Rory went for coffee,while we were still reading._

_"Going for coffee, want me to bring you back one, baby?"_

_"Sure, but be careful, would you?"_

_"Psshh..."_

_"Rory, I'm serious, I just want you to stay safe."_

_"Well, I am always safe."_

_"No, but I always WISH you were..."_

_My stomach leaps inside me, as Sherlock goes on talking,_

"To trade places with the succesor, one needs a wish. I can stake a claim, if I have a contradicting wish. "Resist the devil,and he will flee from you." Amy, do you sincerely wish that? Do you? You need only say 'yes'."

"What will happen if I don't?"

"Rory and John, and possibly the Doctor and River, are going to die. Rory and John, for certain. Come on,work with me!"

"What happens to you, if I agree?"

Sherlock tears at his hair, "I don't have time for this! Do you wish that, yes or no."

"YES!"she cries, and then covers her mouth, in horror.

"Sherlock, please don't do this..."

"We can find another way, mate.I'm more than willing to go through with it!"Rory pipes.

"Sleep."Sherlock commands them both,and they can't resist, like John did.

He keeps walking, I try to cry out, but I can't get out of the TARDIS. Somehow he has quantum locked me inside, like the Angels do when they come in contact with each other.

I realize ,in horror, where they got their power from.

Sherlock's overly powerful ,after-life strengthened, mind, in its breaking...

Horror stings me, as I see River step out in front of him, a look of horror on her face,

"I didn't ask you for this. I just wanted you to solve my case, and save my mother."

"And now I have..."

"But Sherlock, be sensible!"

She moves to slap him upside the head, like she did me once, and he catches her wrist like I did hers once. Her face contorts in horror at the coldness of his hand...

"Sleep..." he commands,and she fights, but the power of the Chaos raging inside him causes his eyes to catch on fire, and she swoons in his grasp.

I look out of the door of the TARDIS, as my family lies like sleeping ragdolls literred on the grass of Central Park . John is lying, in a half daze, one hand twitching above his head, the other on his stomach, trying to reach out to Sherlock, to ,pitifully, reason with him.

Sherlock turns,...Eyes still on fire, and weeping fire, and suddenly he shrieks , his face contorts ,like an angels does when they make their silent screams, and he turns to the same stony grey as they are, but he is suddenly on fire, his entire body, a charcoal, cherry red, and brilliant sun-fire oarnge light, as if a thousand thousand nuclear bombs have gone off inside of him, and he disappears.

I fall to my face, shivering like lighting has hit me, and pass out cold...


	9. Chapter 9 Dante's Daughters

**Chapter 9: Dante's Daughters~**

_You may have half-expected this, but I woke up in the Mind Palace. It didn't look AT ALL like I expected it would. I was expecting a huge library- like room, but this was the very likeness of the Parthenon in Greece. Only far bigger, and made of solid ice. And it was on fire, such as the Great Fire of London, that happened ,oh, a very long time ago, but being a Time Traveler, and very old now myself, (know I don't look it) I have actually witnessed said Fire, and can tell you ,for a fact, Sherlock's soul's fire was as horrific, if not even more terrifying, raging, and screaming, and the fact it was burning in ice, charring it to black ice, but not able to melt it, wasn't helping the case ,at all. _

_John was laying in the very center of the floor. He was his usual self, all except he was wearing the coat he wore as a medic in the Army. He blinked , dazed, and tried to cry out, tried to sit up._

_I heard Athena, Dante's Eldest daughter, say, "I now dub thee, Icarus."_

_Sherlock, who always hated the very idea of knight-hood, was now kneeling on the floor ,dressed in the same dark armor as Amelia and I saw in the book. His face was wan, and I knew that he utterly resented Dante, and his entire household, for this. "Rise...Sieze the day, my son." she said, and Sherlock stood._

_"You do understand the terms of our agreement." Sherlock said. John made this loud, "Euggh.." sound , like he had heard it all..."_

_"No...ridiculous...Stop!" he cried, desperately from his sleep._

_"It's alright, John." Sherlock called._

_"No..."_

_I came in the room,unnoticed then._

"Oh John,darling, it's quite alright." Athena said in a patronizing tone. "Sherlock is only going to die in fire, like the dog he is." she smiled, and I could see her teeth were filed swords of brass.

"Aren't you?"

"Yes, and no harm is to come to him. Or Rory Willams, and his wife Amelia. Or their daugher, Melody (also known as River Song). Or to the one they call the Doctor.."suddenly Sherlock drew up to what seemed like 3 times his actual, already rather impressive height, "And IF harm does, after this agreement has been sworn in my flaming blood-" Out spread the damned wings of Icarus, and they were on fire. I felt myself choke. John wailed, fighting whatever sort of quantum enchantment he was under. " THEN I WILL BURN YOUR KINGDOM DOWN."

Athena took 3 steps back, and covered her face in her hands. Her sisters, the Fates, did the same, and he caught their strings on fire, and feverishly they worked to put them out. They were panting.

"Very good, Sherlock!" whistled and clapped Jim Moriarty ,himself dressed in very strange military atttire-rather like a "Red Coat" from the days of the American Revolution."I rather like this plan already, can we start with your own heart?"

"I HAVE NO HEART!" Sherlock hissed, and I took a step back in fear. "I HAVE NO SOUL." his eyes lit fire, as did his tounge, and his hair, along with those terrible wings, and his fingers became like candle-wicks.

"I HAVE ONLY FIRE...AND I WILL BURN YOU...ALL OF YOU..."the flame receded, and he gasped, and staggered on his heels.

"Unless the agreement is kept."

The fates whined again, as they struggled to keep their chords from catching blaze a second time, "Oh,for God's sakes Sherlock ,the third times a bloody charm. Enough with the fire!" one of them piped.

"THERE WILL NEVER BE AN END TO THE BURNING YOU WILL ENDURE, IF A HAIR OF THEIR HEADS IS OUT OF PLACE, WHEN I DESCEND TO HADES!"Sherlock roared, and the chords lit fire again, and the one that spoke screamed, and Athena pulled a fire- extinguisher from somewhere in the room, and doused them all.

"Your point has been made, Icarus. Now, Moriarty, if you would be so kind as to see the fugitive out?"

"Follow me to your funeral, Sherly,it's gonna be a gala affair!" Jim gushed, winking, and taking Sherlock by the hand, rushing him from the room, like a child eager to show off a new pony.

Sherlock turned, and looked back ,fretfully, at John, who had finally sat up, and was glaring at the sisters.

"You have no intention of keeping your bargain. You only thought you were going to trick him, so you could kill him, and me too, and the Doctor's family, and then go on with your terrorism for the rest of bloody forevermore."

"Well done,Dr. Watson. You've hit the nail right squarely on the noggin' !" Athena laughed,as if he'd told her she was beautiful.

"Only you're wrong."

"Am I? How so?"

"First, he's Sherlock Holmes. You can't trick Sherlock Holmes. And second,he will burn you. I have no doubt,if he sees the need, he will burn you to a ruthless pile of dust, and then ask me to steal a bloody ashtray for him."

They blinked ,stupidly.

"Well...If he's dead, he can't do anything to us, can he?"

"That's also a mistake on your part. He is ALREADY dead!" John spat, and stood up, ready to fight them.

It was then I saw there was a black Chord of Fate ,bound about his neck. Athena drew her sword. "If we are to have our brief war with the Kingdom of Icarus, we will have to sever the Right Hand ,first."

I noticed ,suddenly, there was a rather largish sword sitting on the Baker's Street setee , which Sherlock ,for some reason, had planted under a rather huge stuffed Mammoth's head, in the middle of the room. I drew it, and leapt forward.

"En garde!" I cried, in a terribly cliche moment, for my part. Then as if heaven rewarded my faith with a granted wish, a fez floated out of the ethereal, and landed on my head. " I am prepared to battle you to the end of said forevermore."

John took incentive to escort himself out.

"Wait!"I cried after him, as all of the Angel Sisters, fenced me in with long bronze blades. "Wait a minute ,John!, he'll probably give my bum a good, extra roasting, for letting you escape."

"He's a bloody fool if he thinks you'll be able to keep me in! But my thanks for your fighting the Fates off my back, as the end of my chord is in here. Careful, Doctor, the other chords belong to River and the Ponds."

John saluted me, and saw himself out. I was shaking my head,

"Well, I suppose that's that ,then? Fine, leave me here, with a lady for every arm. Alright,girls, where was I? Ah, yes, TO KILLING EACH OTHER!" I cried, and then the sisters fell on me.

And I must say that I was rather dashing, and simply MARVELOUS at fencing, and my fez was MARVELOUS too, ha ha he...*ehem* And I guarantee I would continue to be exceedingly wonderful at it , even if River had not showed up ,just in time for the sisters to go and burst Pandora's box ,like a pinada of wickedness, all over the place. Stupid pinada...

"Hello, sweetie," she declared, storming in, and shooting a faun in the face.

"How'd you get in here?"

"If you have any sense about you at all, you will remember we are waging war in the mind of SHERLOCK HOLMES. ANYTHING can happen!" she gasped, as Pandora's box descended apoun the mind palace, and the War of the Angels officially started.

"AND NOW YOU LOT!" I cried ,as the Ponds came in.

"It's easy. John left the door open. I spent too much time in boxes, not to walk through an open door when it was right in front of me."Amy replied with a shrug.

Rory came puffing in behind her, "Oh, rubbish, how'd this go all screwy? Oh my God..are those..walking,...brains?!"

"See my point?" River asked, smiling sweetly. "Now, get a move on. We haven't got all day to save the Universe, you know."

I get up, preparing what looks is going to be a rather longish battle, when I hear John and Sherlock away somewhere in the distance of the palace, bickering, as usual.

" And you can't just stay put like a good little blogger,no, you have to be like, 'Wee,look, I'm a soldier, break out of the bloody time machine , and get myself killed!' I'm trying to save you ,you imbecile. Don't interfere. Hero's don't exist, and if they did, I certainly can't afford one." Sherlock's voice aches off the walls of his own mind, betraying his feelings( that apparently he actually does have,who would have known?) Blazing, charred ice, also begins to seep blood in places. Its as if his veins are caving everywhere you look, and I feel suddenly, so very, very cold.

"I,m not...trying! to be a hero!" John gasps, "I'm your friend. Friends protect people. Hello! I'm still talking to you, where are you going?"

"To end ."

I see them now, running to the mouth of this dark tunnel, that is clearly the way out. I don't see Moriarty any more, so this tells me Sherlock is leaving of his own volition.

John, in exasperation, is plucking at his arm."So, what? are you going to solve this last bit , by roasting marshmallows on your fingers?"

Sherlock's brows flicked to disappearing under his Japenese,kabuto-style helmet. "Not a bad idea. But no, actually, the plan is to quantam lock,-same as I did you-"

"Shut up, you're on fire!" John wails, and it's true..Oh God, it's true. And will he ever stop burning?

I have torn away from the others, who have taken swords, and shields, and guns, maces, clubs, whatever fell out of said Wickedness Pinada. I have reached them, just as Sherlock gnashes his teeth, fitfully.

"I don't have time for this!" he stretches a hand towards John.

"Nope!" John cries, catching it, clutching it, to my suprise( I half expected him to swing around and bust Sherlock's chin. Ah, well,John surprises you,quite a bit.)

"You aren't trying anymore bloody magic tricks on me! So help me if I don't..."

"Then this is the only alternative..."Sherlock says, sadly, and beats his wings one good time, sweeping fire over John's head, and knocking him into a semi-coma, pushing him away from him, and ,abruptly, he is lying face down in the firey-ashen-frozen-bleeding pathway.

I run up to John, and kneel beside him. "You..you struck him? You must be desperate to get away!"

Sherlock looks sick. "He'll be awake in a couple of hours, and he'll...be ready to kill me. It'll be too late, anyway; it already is. Remember what you promised me,Doctor."

"Yeah, well I made him promises too."

"Oh ,for GOD'S SAKES. You can't SAVE me! But I can save you lot...So, stop. Just LET ME GO!" he throws a flame at me, and I dodge it, feeling my stomach burn with my own fear's fire.

"Sorry, Sherlock. But you know that I can't do that. John will kill me, and for me, it's NOT too late."

Sherlock was truly out of breath now, wanting so badly to take the chinning he would certainly get, when John woke up, and probably more than just a couple of times; if John had his way, the only bleeding would be coming from Sherlock's nose.

Pretending that he's ok, when it's obvious this is already killing him, Sherlock rolls his eyes, and disappears.

Then his voice falls on me like rain,

"The Reichenbach Falls, Doctor. See if you can figure it out yourself."

I close my eyes, letting the words sink in. Wondering ,if he is right, and that, maybe I WON'T be able to save him? Wondering what will happen to John if...

I can't think about it now. "Hey, let's get out of here." I say to the comatose form of Sherlock's only friend, and scoop him up onto my shoulders. "Ooff, you? heavy? No..."


	10. Chapter 10 Intravenous Styx

**Chapter 10: Intravenous Styx~**

_I can't tell the next part without tears, but that's ok, as sad is happy for deep people. And I am so very sad , remembering. It's like my heart is dieing, and I'm looking back on all of them. Every single one of them..._

_I am so proud to call them mine. And that...Sherlock Holmes...saved them...for me._

"That..." John couldn't form the insult on his lips. The TARDIS landed with another jolt. "What?Oi! Where ARE we?"

Amy peared through the door, and the smoke. No, not smoke,but mist as thick as cotton candy.

"I think we're here..."

"Oh, that's helpful." John smiled, like he only does when he is furious. And then, I am looking into the darkness. There is an eery light before us. I know...

"John...He told me...To meet him here."

He's on his feet, without my having to say another word. The Ponds have electric torches, and River has her gun. I have my sonic. I rather doubt that's going to be much help.

The light is swinging ,away in the thick mist. And , to the horror of my eyes, it is hanging from Judas' feet, as he swings in the dread Judas' tree, that had appeared in the Olympus Paradox, and somehow had relocated here, to what Sherlock had called the Reichenbach Falls.

There stands Jim Moriarty, on a pile of shrouded bodies, with a shovel in hand.

"Ohhhh, helllllo!" he cries, leaping from his pile. "And can I help you, ladies, gentelmen." he grins ,like the portrait of Lucifer, at John, who strides forward, only to have the Ponds restrain him,and this only to restrain themselves.

I swallow, "Sherlock Holmes?"

Jim laughs. " Oh. Him ." he rolls his eyes, "How boring.I thought you'd ask about, Amy...Rory, River, John..."he uncovers the bodies at his feet. I fight the urge to scream,but only because Amelia's hand is on my shoulder, suddenly. Only because Amelia is here with me, and not dead at my feet.

"Or maybe..." he turns in the mist, "Rose, Donna,Martha ,...Clara! I can show them all to you. All of them, and all the other ones, the ones that haven't come yet. 'Cause you know, they're all going to die, and it will be all your fault. And all you'll be doing is looking back, and remembering how bloody BRILLIANT they were."

Amy clutches me, as I bow over. I have never felt the like of such searing pain, in both of my hearts, as a vision of all my beloved friends...

Jim's voice cuts like a blade of lightning ,through the torrent rain, and tsunami -sized waves of my self-pity, and all of wibbly wobbly timey wimeyness, that is swimming about my ears, with the Plague of Memories.

"Or well...they would have died. And been proper angel bait. Which...ssssssss... is-kinda- what I had rather hoped ,you know, as angels feed on souls, and I needed a network that wasn't bound to dieing,and all that. So I could, you know, commit crimes from my couch ,even from Eternity. But... just had to go and SAVE him ,didn't you?Oh, why did it have to be so easy?!"

'Who?"

"Sherlock ,actually, there at Anastasia's End, you kinda more or less saved JOHN WATSON,but you know how it is with Sherlock, the only way to reach his soul, is to save his heart..." Jim scowls at John, who blanches, from fury rather than fear.

"And that didn't work out well for you did it?" I ask, blood gone cold from my own rage.

Jim smiled, "Well,he made a deal with the Devil, that will bring about his absolute End. So, I like that. But...it won't be any fun going back to dealing with the normal people again. I'll even have normal-people network now, as he created and destroyed the angels, in one fell Fall."

"In what?" John snaps, ready to take his head off, in one fell flick of his fingers.

"You heard me. Fall...I owe him one, right? An EPIC fall. Him being Icarus...He agreed to it, you know. It will be perfect. Well...his ANGEL will fall, yeah?The doppleganger of himself, that his dreams created. Sherlock...himself..."

Jim beckons us, and disappears into the mist.

"SHERLOCK HIMSELF WHAT?WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HIM!" John is after him, like a tiger on live bait.

_The mist twists and turns like curled hallways, and I pass through a blazing museum ,with portraits of scenes from all of Sherlock and John's cases, the ones that had been,and the ones that hadn't happened yet. The one about the famous painting, the Reichenbach Falls painting ,or whatever it was that was supposed to make him famous someday,turned out to be a doorway, and I finally understood. Then I heard John scream..._

"SHERLOCK!"

I stop dead in my tracks. John is kneeling beside a white stone slab.

"Oh...God..." he moans,into the palm that is firmly clutching his mouth.

Sherlock is laying on his back, on said slab. Dressed like the Sherlock we know, not the Icarus doppleganger we saw in the book, and the mind palace. He is so white, well his face, anyway. If it's possible, his hair is actually growing ever darker, so black it emanates darkness, which ,in and of itself, is frightening. Beside him, is a stand for a medical fluid's bag, but the bag itself is empty. A pipe runs from it, trailing away somewhere. There is a needle in Sherlock's vein, and a track line in said vein, that is a bold, eery purple, with a bruise around it ,the color of coming twilight. The pipe is filled with swirling grey liquid.

"Where...where is it coming from?" Amy asks, face wan.

I know already. I raise her electric torch, and look into the mist. "I thought I heard water..." I whisper.

John looks up, from now streaming tears. As away from us, into Eternity, and beyond that ,into Chaos, where Time and Eternity do not exist, stretches Styx ,in all its glory.

Jim comes ,slinking up like Satan, and leans close to John's ear. "Is there anything you want to tell him?"

"He can hear me..."John mutters, not a question, a horrified realization. "Ga-SHERLOCK! Can...can you hear me?" he crawls up on the slab, and takes the detective's marble cheekbones in both hands; almost recoils at how icey the strange ,vampiric visage of his best friend, has become. "Can you hear me...?" he asks again, voice a strangled croaking of sound.

Sherlock's eye lids flutter, and then open wide. John almost recoils. Almost. No matter how absolutely horrifying they are ,at the moment, they are still Sherlock's eyes. His dearest friend's eyes. The friend that he loves as much ,if not more so ,than if he were his biological (twin)brother. He is crying now, but not like I know that he wants to. We will never see outwardly the full measure of John Watson's sorrow.I think it's enough to blast both of mine out of my chest, like nuclear waste, and still barely scratch the surface. And the poor bloke's only got one, very compassionate, frail ,human heart.

"You can! You can hear me, can't you?!" John laughs, as the eyes, like Sherlock's ,but now with every psychotropic color of the spectrum marbled into their own nature,confusing the eyes and soul of the beholder, staring at him, trying to place him. The man on the table moans,silently. And there is the faintest nod.

John beats both his fists into Sherlock's chest, hard enough to elicit a cough, one that sounds like the backfiring of a jet.

"YOU BLOODY IDIOT!"he roars..."Why...?"

Sherlock smiles, lifts a hand to John's face...He grits his teeth,and now ,to my wonder, I realize, both his veins are hooked to IV lines, pumping the River of the Dead, through his bloodstream.

"I don't have a heart...Dreams can't hurt me. Caring is a disadvantage. Caring won't help them. I don't care what happens to me...Will that..help them?"

"YOU may not care what happens to you, but I DO." John is chomping at the bit, livid being a poor excuse for a word ,in our case.

"Will save...you."he lays a hand on John's face. "Of course...the Lords of Fire...want to burn my heart...my heart. My only sense of humanity, my heart...Broken heart?"

John is crying, Sherlock thumbs the tears. "No...don't...Won't help you. Listen...Going to save you. You're worth saving,you know?"

_I feel once more like a bystander in a world that belongs only to them. Where I am the earth, regenerating always with new life. Rivers flowing through my veins. Pools and ponds forming in the holes of my wounds, to ease them with cool water. Roses donning my soul with those noble garlands of beauty, which make the very breath of life. And ,in which,they belong to the sky. Where John is the sun, warm, blazing, sometimes almost raving ,in its extreme heat, but nurturing, a Life-Giver, a Guide. And where Sherlock is the night itself, dark, and brooding, and reclusive, turning deep within itself, to try the hearts of men, as they sleep ,to know their secret thoughts. To light the earth with cold and far- off stars, that shine like truth, to reveal the shape of the Cosmos,though said shape seems out of reach. Day and Night they are, revolving around each other, and their life is one, like the sky, and stretches on into the great mystery, that is the Eternity,to which they pass, if only the Lords of Fire would permit them to Sleep. I catch my breath, hanging on to every word._

"Save...me?"

"John...don't...don't be stupid...I will create them, and stop them all at once. See? Take the blame for it?See? The water...In the line...Is the River of Death. The River of lies, the poison they always choose, over justice, of course. Jim was going to kill us, later than sooner. Jim was going to destroy us, and you would be caught up in the landslide of my own destruction. You would die, not by the sword, but by the pen, which is far more cruel. You would die, by my name, by being linked to me. Unless..."Sherlock smiles..."Unless, I take poison. Unless I live the horrific dream, of the life that we had been intended to live, and the death we were intended to .First for me, off the rooftop of St. Bart's. Then you,later,...after your life was spent, and your Browning had become more of a seductive lover than an old friend..." Sherlock coughs...

"So, I will live the dream. Caring is a disadvantage. It will hurt you too much, John. So, I, being I am a machine, will live the nightmare for you, and your sufferings will not ever even happen. I will witness you grieve yourself to death for me, but it will not be real. It will not be me. I will be unmade, in the darkness, that I bury you in. And save you, from the curse Moriarty wants to place you under. From the lies of his press.I will take it...take the tortures, of the Network. All the brutal torment, that is impossible,physically. But possible in my mind, where anything can happen. I will go down, past the Well of Souls, to Hades, and there shake Moriarty's hand, to secure your freedom. And we will not live that ugly chapter. I may not make it back from the Well of Souls ,at all. You see, the very poison that gave the Lords of Fire's Phoenix -Man spirits life, is the very fire coursing through my veins. My thoughts...eeehhughhh...cannot be silent. The shapes of torture, I see it in every color." (New meaning had been given to the strange spectrum of his eyes. John almost screams,and Sherlock shifts uncomfortably). "I will drain from them the energy they feed off of, that gives them breath, and they will become cold, inanimate stone, always trying to suck energy, by sending people back in time. But they will not succeed, because you see, my mind will be that which holds sway over them. That which gave them the power to transcend, and the self-same power that will disable them. Because the people who's lives they violate, by sending them to the wrong time, will be trapped in my Lost Soul. And, so, I will take their cases, get them justice, send them back to their proper times. Starting with the Ponds..." They gasp, utterly horrified." The Angels will appear to have power, but it will not be them. It will be me...Cold, grey, immobile...Me ,being myself. This is the darkness I create. The Quantum Prison, the Cage of Souls. I ,Icarus, the child of night, that can never come too close to you, the very Light. My darkness will make your brightness but increase. And I will fall. For the night was created... to fall..."

"No ,you're right." says John, and I am shocked ,to stupor, that he agrees. Or...just kidding. "The Darkness can't approach the Light. But the Sun can go down. No matter how far you fall...I can, I will go down. You may fall...but if I am a light, then I am Sun-Down. And I WILL come for you!" John stands up, jaw set, and I flinch.

"This is happening." someone says, I'm not sure which one of us it was, the voice is so distorted. It could have been mine.

"If you dare to chase a Dreamer, you better run ,you clever boy..."a voice says, form behind a tree. It's Clara Oswald! Looking out over the future, hers and mine, and the other, darker one, that Sherlock is seeing to it ,will never exist.

"Icarus is climbing to his throne..." she whispers.

"Time's up." Jim laughs.

Sherlock ,on the table, lays his head back,and wails, as his fire takes him, and his shape passes away,in a cloud of neon smoke.


	11. Chapter 11 The Clever Boy Runs

**Chapter 11: The Clever Boy Runs~**

_Now this is the part in the story when yours truly gets just a bit clever, and a good man goes to war. Such courage, such nobility! I will always remember when I met John Watson. And how I saved him, and how he really saved me..._

We rode the TARDIS hard in the direction of the smoke cloud, that Sherlock's shape had left after him.

And we showed up at the Gates of St. Bartholomew, in the center of Dark Pompeii, on Icarus' Coronation day.

They had set up the field for jousting and games, all sorts of games. The Queen of the Angels, Lady Liberty, stood tall and green in the center,as if she was guarding the way. About her stood all these firey lords and ladies, each wearing a round halo. One of them was dressed like the Archbishop of Canterbury. And then it hit me!

"CHESS!"

"What? "Amy cried, slamming into my shoulders, as I stopped,right in front of the TARDIS' open door.

John was dancing on one leg, and then the other, back and forth. "That's it, thank you for the ride, I'm headed up."

"This is a good idea, is it?" Amy asked, brows arching, and reaching a hand for him.

"Could you do it, Amy? Could you just stand and watch,and wait, when a person you really loved (not like ...you and Rory...but maybe the person I love the MOST) was in trouble? Could you wait? Could you let them..."

He can't talk, he can't even breathe."Let them take the Fall...for you?"

Amy stops, dumb-struck.

"No..."she says, very quietly, "No..I don't think I could. What I DO think is that,...he'd do anything to save you. So would my Rory...to save me...It shoulda been him up there, but thanks to Sherlock, it won't be. It's...ah...kinda my fault, that he was able to get up there, and so I want to make it up to 've got to let us help..."

"And I'll tell you exactly how we're going to do it!" I gather my friends under my arms, like a hen gathers her chicks under her wings. River turns, "Wait a moment, Doctor Watson." she hands him her gun, briefly shows him how to use it.

"I think it's good we're splitting up. Only one psychopath per TARDIS." she laughed, and winked at him. John smiled, "Thank you, thank the lot of you ..."

"No, no, no...Thank YOU." I say. "We wouldn't be a family without the both of you. And it cost you everything..." I can hardly talk...

John turns to the mountain, as the sick music of the Angels begins to play. "Not yet it hasn't!" he gasped. "SHERLOCK!" he shouted, and ran into the smoke.

I heard a sword ring in the cool air. Clara Oswald was standing there, dressed all in armor, fire behind her, the wind blowing her hair around, and holding a sword. Dressed the same, was Rose Tyler, only transformed into the Bad Wolf. "Run you clever boy..." Clara said, smiling impishly.

"They're coming." the Bad Wolf whispered low, and went head first into the smoke.

This was it ,this was the beginning of the War of the Angels.

_Or to be more accurate,it was the beginning of the Battle of Chess. The War of the Angels was fought, actually, in a lot of black holes that opened on the "ChessBoard" before the checkmate, and I'd have to write a whole other book to tell you. Bloody books,wars and fairy-tales, swimming about in your head for ever...Alive there, because the ink won't let it die. And that's a good thing. Some things are worth remembering ,aren't they? And this, actually, ended up being one of my fondest memories, and you want to know why? My whole family and I were there to see it, to see the day that Sherlock Holmes showed the world, that he was a GREAT man._

_He was ,just at that moment, I saw him,(or more precisicely the armor-wearing doppleganger with huge ,black wings "him") ascending the stairs of the Scaffold, the big podium thing he was going to have to jump off of, to seal his deal._

_And now, we're back at the Beginning that I chose to begin with, and all we have left to tell is how the lot of us won._

"Alright, everybody! To do this,we are going to have to work together! Take the Queen, work with me!"and I began to move forward, and back on the chess board, doing salsa steps, as Lady Liberty waved a hand, and sent ,here an angel, there an angel. "And one more thing. DON'T BLINK."

I heard gunshots go off, till River's gun was out of power. "Move it, out of my way!" John's desperation could be heard in the distance above me. There was a sharp smell of burning, as the Lords of Fire began to prepare for the celebration of Icarus' Falls. "Fireworks, Fireworks, Our grand finale!" sang cherubs, the "baby"angels. _You must remember, all, except for their Queen,still had human shapes, with red-flame for hair at this time. _

Clara leaped into the middle of the crowd, that was trying to block John from seeing what was happening, "Oi, John!" she cried, swinging her sword through the head of one of the Princes of Fire. John stopped, gaping, not really suprised at the violent death he witnessed(being a soldier ,after all) but more suprised that the girl knew his name. "I think you'll be needing this."

She tossed John his mobile.

"Where did you?"

She winked, "Run on ,you clever boy."

Just then ,Dante stepped in John's way, huge mace raised to block his path.

"You aren't getting through."

"I could just go around you."John wasn't even in the least bit backed up by the Lord of the Lords of Fire.

_Told you I was clever, at this point. _

_"DOCTOR?!"AMELIA CRIED._

_"CHECKMATE!" I shouted ,in triumph. It hadn't been hard , my plan. Just make the angels confused, so they'd bump each other off the "Board". Eventually one or two of them were so scattered by my crazy dancing, that they bumped into the Queen. Right as I took the board, she fell head first, off of it._

"NO, YOU FOOL!THIS IS MY KINGDOM!TIME IS MY THRONE, AND ICARUS WILL FALL!"Dante shouted, raising the mace to kill.

When Lady Liberty fell on top of him, herself breaking and head rolling away, tearing over a whole troop of daleks, and things from Pandora's leftovers that had emerged.

"Yeah, whatever."John said, and climbed over the rubble.

"Sherlock?!" he called, as he could now see the younger man, hasting, wings trailing behind him, beginning to burn black, headed up the stairs. He pulled out his own mobile,(that Clara must have given him. I'm still not really sure what she and Rose were doing there.I guess we needed some angels on our side, angels of a diffrent kind).

"John."

"Oh God, this this is NOT happening!" John gasped.

I came running up behind him, just then.

"John...I...this...what's happening is...an apology...I ..I created them, my mind, as it was burning energy sucking and quantam locks that angels do? I ..I'm the one who causes it to happen, my mind draws power from everywhere, draws in all the darkness, processes all the information, every possible threat. I drew up the Styx, and created Icarus myself. I did it to keep you safe. But now, now it is overcoming me...The energy this power is seeking for now...is ...is the Doctor..."

"How...how do we?"

Sherlock is obvioulsy at war with himself. A troupe of fire-haired maiden dancers come swirling along the stair case by him. And with a flutter of his wings, and an angry growl-*POOF*! he turns them all to stone.

"Stay...Stay right where you are!Keep your eyes fixed on me, and don't 't look away. Don't let me look at him...Because if I do..."

"I understand..."

"John?"

"I'm here...Staying right here."

"Don't...don't try to stop me. It can't be stopped now."

"Sherlock?"Amelia shouted, in suprise.

"HALT!" he shouted,and burst into flames, violently turning on something behind Amy. She froze,eyes wide.

Then she turned around.

Rory was behind her, and behind him, about to strangle him, was Athena, Dante's eldest daughter, weak from the sword of Clara driven through her chest, eyes alight like the Bad Wolf's, and I wonder what became of my other two companions. There is always something a story doesn't quite explain. Maybe they were never really there at all, maybe only doubles of them?

"Kneel before your king." Sherlock commanded, begininng to rise on flaming wings, drawing Athena's last strength from her.

She crumpled to her knees, with a curse, and a hiss, and turned to stone, before our eyes.

Amy looked back at Sherlock , now fully lost to his flame, and knew she owed him a debt that could never be payed.

Sobbing, she ran to Rory, and threw her arms around him.

_So, now you know the Beginning from the End, and here we are again, Ending now at last , at the Beginning. And I won't say it is the End, nor will I say goodbye._

_Sherlock roosted on the Podium, and his wings burned away, as did his Icarus visage. Now he is just Sherlock again, long dark cloak, and soft blue scarf, being beaten about him, in the hands of the wind. He stands to his full height, unwavering, but his face is cold, already stone, like the angels he commands, in an orderly chaos, being he is quite mad, but functioning very well._

_Somehow, Dante survived the Queen Liberty falling on him, and for pure spite, he has started a chant now, chanting for Icarus(or really, just Sherlock now) to take his leap of faith.A thousand ,thousand archers take their places on the Gates of Bartholomew, and I hear Jim call, "Well, here it is. No way out now!It's too easy, Sherlock! Too easy. It's either you or them."_

_One bow-wielding fire-prince, by the name of Apollo, comes and stands about 100 feet from John, and might as well have him strapped to a rocket, smirking at him, the heat of his eyes causing John to sweat. But John's gaze never leaves Sherlock's. And then I hear Jim say to Dante, as he casts down the Glass of Abel, which was made of Judas' 30 pieces of silver(and you would seriously have to read the story Amy wrote about the Olympus Paradox to see how that happened) "Deal's up. It's over. I did what you asked. I have fought my fight, and run my course, and I have kept the faith!" As if he truly believed, his hand in bringing about the end of the Weeping Angels, and their creator, was really a heroic thing._

_I hear Jim congragulating Sherlock for being the "gentleman and jumping" and I flinch as he blows his own brains out. Sherlock's eyes are fixed on John's, and I realize for me, for my family...John will watch his best friend fall into Hell,...without blinking..._

"_Oh, Thank you...Bless you, Sherlock Holmes..." I whisper._

"Oh God..."John gasps, and covers his mouth, but doesn't ,for our sake,doesn't look away.

Sherlock swallows,"We have to do this..."

"I know..."

"It's ok...See, you were right? You were always the one that kept me in the right."

"I don't remember what I was right about?"

"You told me friends protect people. Well...you see...why I have to do this,right? You understand..."

"Sherlock,...:

"Keep a watch out for them. You...it will be good, you're going with them when..."

"When?"

"Please...just do this for me. Get them, -get you-...out of here...alright...?"

"Stop..."

"Please?..."

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"Alright."

Sherlock Holmes smiles the most genuine, pleasant smile he ever did in his entire life. Seemed oddly fitting for him. To smile at the face of Death.

"Goodbye, John." he said, and tossed aside his mobile.

John was screaming his head off, as Sherlock spread forth his arms, now absent of wings, and...

_Oh, I can't bear to tell this part again. But, if you like, you can read chapter 1 over again, for a recap. But ,what I didn't tell you before(and what sort of story teller would I be if I failed to tell you now?)is that John not only stayed behind, and stood in the tidal wave of fire, left in Sherlock's wake , as he over filled the Well of Souls, with the explosion caused by the End of his own. I heard John cry out,as the TARDIS ripped us away from there:_

"_I said I'd come for you, and I will..."_

_And then, HE ran, and HE leaped. Head first, into the well._

_And the Angels were turned to stone, no survivors. And Pompeii was hushed, the hush that falls after Ultimate Destruction. _

_And everything was dark and cold..._

_And now you see why I hate endings..._

_Well,except this isn't really the end. There was one more thing, that I saw...From a distance...That I know, deep down in both my hearts, though nobody told me, is what really and trully happened, and how they found each other again...After it all._


	12. Chapter 12 The Days That Never Came

**Chapter 12: Happily- Ever- During -the- Days- That -Never- Came~**

Sherlock fell through thin air, and then fire, and then very deep, boiling oil, and then through oceans,and then through Outer Space, and then through Eternity, and then through Chaos..

Down, down,down he fell, always faster, burning up like a star out of orbit, like the sun knocked off it's stool.

And atlast he crashed, flat on his face, in ashen dust, far ,far,**FAR** away, at the End of All Things, face-planting onto what is called The Tombstone of the Moon.

"_You couldn't have been an ORDINARY little boy, could you, Sherly?" _Mycroft's voice patronized, even this FAR away from him.

"Shut up, Mycroft. There's nothing you can say to change me now. What 's done is done. I am done."

He rolled over onto his back, and looked up, toward Everything Else. "Whoa!" He felt the wind knocked right out of him, trying to fathom just how far he had fallen.

But can anyone fall FAR enough, or hard enough, that grace cannot find them?

He squinted, believing his eyes were trying to deceive him, when out of the darkness, there shone a light. A familiar light. The light that had guided him into truth. That lit the way to redemption for his ice-cold, lost heart.

"I will come for you." said a voice ,dimly, into his memory.

He had been intravenously hooked into the Styx then. For the same light that saved him, had inspired him to lose his own soul, to protect said he truly believed it to be the force that gave meaning to Everything Else. That illuminated the great mystery of everything, that gave purpose to the Work, and soothed the ever nagging Riddle over, like balm on a sore.

Gladly, he would have remained in this darkness, without him, content to live an existance outside of Eternity , for longer than Eternity would endure, in the knowledge that that Light would endure.

But, ready or not, whether you want it or not, here he comes.

Sherlock started crawling backwards,franticly, because John, as he fell, was cocooned in G-Force insulated fire. Like a meteor crashing to ruin.

He landed ,and a tidal wave of ashes swept through the...wherever-the-bloody-devil-they-were, and there was a Silence that may have been Eternity echoed, for all they knew, and as the dust settled, Sherlock drew close.

John stood up, and dusted himself off. Blinking, now that he could, rapidly, and rubbing his eyes, like he was trying to shed the Sleep from them.

Sherlock just staired at him ,in disbelief.

He'd been MORE than willing to do this. To save him. Had wanted to save him. Was ready for the Terrors of Night Alone.

But of course John wouldn't let him. OF COURSE John would FOLLOW him.

He could never get out of the reach of his Light.

"Joining me then?"

John looked up, as if electricuted,shocked out of the Silence, by a much loved voice.

"Always room for one more on that though, right?" he pointed to the Tombstone of the Moon. There were only two names. Nobody else had ever dared to fall THIS far.

**Sherlock Holmes,**

**John Watson,M.D.**

"You should have gotten in the TARDIS."

John smiled. "No point in arguing about what's been done. And it's been done. WE are done. As I said, I come for you. Always. The End. Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson, Legendary "Heroes". Except heroes don't exist. And they lived happily never after, during days that never came." John then stepped forward. Offered a hand.

"So let's shake on it, in hell, and not be disappointed, eh? To the very best of times?"

They shook hands, and then Sherlock gave an agitated cry, and pulled John into an embrace ,that pulled the smaller man off his feet. And John laughed, until his stomach hurt, and then groaned because he was dizzy from falling such a long way. "Dead or alive, nobody should do that?" he looked and pointed up, when Sherlock sat him down. And Sherlock chuckled.

"Maybe we should make a commercial or some sort, and add a "Do not attempt" disclaimer, for the idiots who would. That's what people do ,isn't it?"

John laughed," I don't think we're ever really going to have to worry about what people do,or think,or say, or like again."

Sherlock smiled, wickedly, "Ok, then, here's the plan." he grabbed John's shoulders, eyes swimming around in his face ,like fish in a washing machine's spin-cycle(or so his head felt), dizzy with his excitement, on a sudden.

"First...we get out of here...wherever-the-bloody-devil "here" is...And then ,we go to the Diogenes club, and haunt Mycroft."

John smiled, "I love it."

Sherlock looked up. "Problem..." he muttered, annoyed. "Do you suppose we have to climb out?"

"Oh..."John gasped...realzing...that that was-most likely-how.


	13. Sherlock's Note

**Sherlock's Note:**

_So now at last, here we are. Back in Central Park, River, the Ponds, and me. Reading the note, the last page. The End if you will. But...I won't say the End. I won't,because you see, it never really came. They were already gone, when I knew them. What wonderful men, and the best of times! The Doctor, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson...and the days that never came._

_But,that's ok. Because in the end, aren't we all stories? Isn't that what we've been doing this whole while, eh? Telling the story?_

_Sherlock made it a good one...A really ,really good one. And River went back, to that day in April of 1890. Where they returned ,in spirit, after the terrible War of the Angels.(Just so you know, yeah, they DID have to climb out. They just so happened to have climbed out of a sewer drain,into New York ,on THAT day. Funny world, isn't it?_)And she told Sherlock to write us a note, and so he did. And here's what that note said:_

Doctor,

I ,suppose, as I write this, that I owe you a bit of an apology. Although it wasn't my intention to cause you all the trouble that would cause you to need my help,it appears as though I am the one that gave shape to your Weeping Angels.

Doctor,it seems to be that you are also in order of some appraisal. I commend you for your gallantry at the Battle of Chess. I must also commend you for how manfully you keep moving on, after every tragic loss. I suppose then, I owe you another apology ,for that last one. John says I should acknowledge it, that it's what people do.I honestly know nothing about human nature, but if John says it, it must be true, so again, sorry.

And speaking of John -If you are reading this, then it means that my blogger has gotten his one last miracle ,after all. Which, I suppose I should thank you for that. I would be- undoubtedly -lost without him.

Together...or not at all, to the end of our Days-That-Will-Never-Come. We have you to thank for that. We have you to thank for alot of things. Which, actually, I am rubbish at "thank-you" 's. At apologies... Actually, John made me re-write this letter exactly 3,650 times before it met his Standard of Propriety. How dull...

Well, I suppose all that's left, is one last "observation" ,if you will allow me. Doctor, I , in all honestly, worry for you. Shocking,I know (did you swallow your tounge?do you have two of those like you have two hearts?if I was yet alive, and you were the dead one, my friend Molly Hooper and I would have to disect you for experiments. John said I could leave that bit in the letter, because he spewed his drink everywhere laughing when he read it.I was rather messy. Ah, anyway, to the point...) It is for a strictly practical reason that I worry for you. There is strength is numbers. A terribly cliche thing to say, nevertheless, it is true.

Don't be alone, Doctor. Don't ever be alone. It does,in fact, NOT keep you safe. So ,here after my life is over, I finally admit ONCE,ONCE,not even in my life, I was WRONG. John made me say it. Stupid...

But ,I repeat, DO NOT be alone. Never let them out of your sight. Don't blink, because in said blink, a bomb can go off, and weeeee! there goes your life...

I suppose it's what people do, isn't it? Leave behind a legacy? I was probably the most abnoxious person on earth, and I don't see the likes of me leaving any inspiring memories. But, if I just HAVE to leave something, let me leave you some advice. Something I observed. It took dieing to actually solve the case I was working on ,with the facts I'm about to disclose,but "better late than never" ,as they say.

People are selfish, brooding, scheming, wicked, nasty, utterly stupid little creatures. Really, it's quite humorous. And yet there's one mysterious force on the earth, that motivates them, like nothing else can. No gold can buy it. No death defy it. And in the end, it will break one's heart, if they do,in fact, have one.

I know nothing at all when it comes to human nature, but I have observed what love is. It is the most vicious motivator on Earth, and ,apparently, anywhere else too. It is the most expensive thing,too. Now ,to be more specific, there are many diffrent kinds of "it".There's the kinds like your Ponds have got, (that one absolutely befuddles me) and then there's the kind like with John and I.

They say when you "fall" in love, that you can fall out of it, too. They have mushy little stupid ideas, of sliding down rainbows, and landing in fluffy clouds. Oh,...really, do you ever wonder what goes on in their funny little brains? Fall in love, and fall out? Fall SOFTLY in love? WRONG.

It has been my experience that the Fall of Love is an impact stronger than if our moon lost gravity and landed on the Earth. It has been my experience that it will HURT, and one may even bleed out the head ,like a garden fountain ,for it. It might even result in a cataclysm such as in the Well of Souls, 12 times stronger than the Atomic Bomb, and render a Fire-bourne race of extra-terrestrials, to creepy lawn gnomes that resent their social status, and might even stalk the Queen of England ( one should really do something about all the statues hanging about old London. Put that statement in my will, if I get one.)

It isn't the fluff and rubbish and SENTIMENT( deplorable word...sentiment,I can't bear the taste of it, blechh...) that "people" make it out to be. Love is WORK.

I suppose though, really, it is the most rewarding sort of work. And it can be somewhat fun, if you ignore how absolutely stupid the ones you love can be, from time to time. But that's ok, everyone's idiots anyway, you really can't expect much. Think of it, as a Game. A game, where, if it's real, and not the showy, stupid, Oh DEAR GOD, so stupid!,fluff of sentiment, you will hold all the cards from the Outset.

And play the Game, good Doctor. Play it for it's own sake.

So, that's all we wrote. WE, as John hovered like a vulture making sure I didn't seriously offend you in our very final farewell, as that would be a bit ...not good.

There is nothing more to say. You know why people leave notes. For the same reason that books have endings, and sunrises set. It's just the way it goes. And it can't be changed.

Goodbye,Doctor.

Cordially,

Sherlock Holmes, and John Watson.

_I set it aside, tears in my own eyes, my friends stairing up at me with wide eyes, also full of tears._

_"Thank you..." I whisper , to, well you know who..._

_"And I will."_

_And that regrettably (OH I HATE IT!) is __**THE END.**_


End file.
